#i carry this small notepad with me EVERYWHERE

[honeybuckin10]

Hospital Beds - a Hawks x fem!doctor!reader One Shot

Summary: Hawks heals more than his wings after the Paranormal Liberation War attacks [wc: 4.6k].  

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of character death, descriptions of wounds, swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, potentially unpopular Hawks opinions. characters slightly aged up.

a/n: started writing thinking this was gonna be cute and flirty, ended up taking a kind of serious turn (still otherwise cute and flirty with happy-ish ending). might do a spicier part 2 at some point. as always, don’t be a ghost reader pls and ty <3

Hawks’ eyes were focused on the window, lost in thought. There was a crowd gathered outside Central Hospital. From the muffled voices through the glass, it didn’t sound like they were there for support. He felt the span of his back against the hospital bed, a sensation both foreign and grounding. The space where his wings once were stung slightly at the contact, despite the heavy nerve blockers he assumed were administered earlier.

“Back again so soon?”

You broke him from his trance as you shut the door behind you. Your eyes immediately scanned his monitors, a pleasant smile never leaving your face.

“At some point, we really do have to get your heart rate checked out.”

He didn’t actually have a high heart rate. But the machines he was hooked up to always went crazy whenever he got sight of you. He was too embarrassed to say anything, though he wondered if you noticed why his charts never reflected any underlying conditions when his vitals were checked by others.

“You’re not a very good patient, you know. Though now that you can’t talk, perhaps you’ll actually listen.”

He tried to respond, but quickly remembered he couldn’t open his jaw, not very much at least. No sound came out of the small gap between his lips.

You had treated Hawks on several occasions now, usually after incidents involving fire. Most were minor. He’d come in and joke that he’d done it on purpose to see you. You’d roll your eyes, every now and then you’d even dignify him with an actual response: ‘nice try’. But his injuries now were unlike anything you’d ever seen. You knew it was bad when he didn’t try flirting with you. Then again, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.

Your tone was light and breezy, but the furrow in your brow betrayed your façade.

“I’m only joking, of course. But in all seriousness, your trachea was severely damaged from the smoke inhalation during the attack. Fortunately you narrowly avoided respiratory failure, but you won’t be able to use your voice for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, technology has advanced enough that you won’t have to carry around a notepad everywhere you go. We recommend using the voice app on your phone.”

You handed him his cell phone, when Hawks noticed a plastic bag of personal items behind you with unknown origins. You followed his eyes to see what was distracting him.

“Oh yes, a young man named Tokoyami brought you a change of clothes and some other things you may need while you were out. Said he was your mentee.” You paused, searching for some kind of reaction. You thought it might brighten his spirits. His eyes widened somewhat, but there was still no smile. “It’s clear you’ve had a big impact on him.”

Tokoyami. His mentee. A child. More memories of the battlefield came flooding back. Twice. Dabi. He knew you hoped that bringing up his pupil would put him at ease. But Hawks was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he had put the student is such a dangerous situation.

“I also spoke with Dermatology. They informed me that sixteen percent of your body is covered with third degree burns, another twenty percent second degree, and twenty-two percent first degree. Given the severity and location of the burns, you’re also at risk of developing contractures that could compress your airways in the future so we’ll need to keep a close eye on that. Once your wraps come off, they’ve prescribed you a topical treatment that you’re to use three times a day until everything is healed. You’ll also be started on an oral antibiotic immediately, which you’re to take for three weeks.”

He attempted to use his new voice.

“What about wings?” You took a deep breath. Not good.

“I’m getting to that. I’m going to adjust your bed a little first. Are you able to lean forward?” He nodded as the bed rose up and the angle of his back moved more upright. He winced, unable to hide his discomfort but did as you instructed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is painful for you. I’m going as quickly as I can.” You talked through how you were examining his dressings, that his biggest risk at the moment was that the wounds would get infected, and that the dressings would need to be changed again before the end of the day.

“I think they will grow back. But it will be painful and it will be slow. You must be patient during this time and you’ll have to stay out of the field for a while. I’d recommend taking a well-deserved break until they’re fully healed.”

Bedrest sounded like Hawks’ personal hell. He only nodded his head. He didn’t have the energy to protest.

“You’ll also need to go through a psychiatric evaluation before rejoining field.”

Hawks let out a muffled groan. You let out an exasperated laugh.

“Really, you didn’t make a peep when I was examining your open wounds but you draw the line at psych eval?” You watched as he typed out his next thought.

“Waste of time.” Your eyes softened.

“First of all, this is standard procedure. Endeavor, Mirko, Eraserhead, all those UA students are going to have to get one too. Second, even if it wasn’t, what you – what you’ve all gone through would cause even the strongest soldier some kind of stress. We want to make sure that you’re all in the right headspace so that you’re the most prepared you can be going against whatever this enemy is. You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of others.”

Hawks sat there a moment in silence, absorbing your words. Wondering whether you would be so sympathetic and kind if you knew the truth. He began typing.

“I killed someone,” the unnatural voice said. It came from him, but it didn’t feel like him. It echoed against the walls of the sterile room, void of emotion.

You pulled a chair next to his bed so that you were slightly below his eye level.

“I heard. That must be a lot to carry.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m a bad person.”

“You’re not.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully for the fragile hero. “I don’t know what your world is like. I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. But I do know that we are both in the business of saving lives, albeit in different ways. My guess is you made a split second decision on what was in the mission’s best interest to save the lives of your colleagues and ultimately the lives of civilians. Nobody has a crystal ball to know whether that was the best or right choice. But it was a life or death situation, and you did the best you could in the moment. It’s natural to feel remorse and guilt, but you can’t let it debilitate you for the rest of your life either.”

What right did you have to comment on such things?

“You’ve never killed someone,” he countered.

“I have. In my OR. There are some people that can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try.”

“I think he was a good person,” he typed, wondering if that negated everything you just said.

“Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them bad people.” He sighed, swallowing the searing pain as harsh air passed through his lungs. You watched closely as the hero studied his bandaged hands, refusing to make eye contact. “For now, the best thing you can do for yourself and Japan is rest. We need you.”

He sat with your words. It didn’t dawn on him until long after you left the room that you weren’t just talking about Twice.

-

As you warned, the days passed at a glacial pace. He didn’t enjoy how quickly he acclimated to talking through his phone. He had growing pains from the nubs of his wings that began to poke through his skin. Each day brought a revolving door of doctors and healers and other specialists, by whom he was constantly poked and prodded and observed. Hawks hated every minute of it. Almost every minute.

You came in daily to monitor the progress of his wings. It was the most painful part of his recovery. But you entered his room with a smile and sunny disposition, like you weren’t about to inflict torture on him for thirty minutes. The air hurt his exposed back when you removed the old bandages. It stung when you applied antiseptic to cleanse the area. It felt like he was going to pass out when you ran your gloved fingers along the growth that was coming in. He felt all the more pathetic laying on his stomach as you did your work.

But you did your best to distract him with bad jokes and hospital gossip. Not that you had to put in that much effort. Your presence was distracting enough.

On the fourth day after the battle, you finally got a chuckle out him. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white? He shrugged as you applied ointment. A penguin falling down the stairs. You quickly realized that your methods may have been faulty as his laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his lungs still weak.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Try to remember your box breathing.”

He held his breath at the top of his inhale. Four, three, two, one. Exhale. Four, three, two, one. He repeated this for a minute before his breath finally returned to normal. He gave a thumbs up. I’m ok.

Relief washed over your face. “I’m sorry I made you choke on air. But glad to see you in better spirits today.” He began typing.

“I’m always in good spirits when you’re around.” You bit back a smile no one could see as you started redressing the incoming wings.

“Ah, there he is. Yeah, you’re definitely starting to feel better.”

“Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of health.” The gallows humor was hard to miss despite the monotone robotic voice, the statement in stark contrast to his fully bandaged and hospitalized body.

“You will be, soon enough.” You finished applying new bandages. “That’s it for me today, unless there’s anything else you want to share.”

“Capricorn. 27. Single –“

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You pulled off your disposable gloves, turning to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I already knew that from your chart. Nice try,” you teased.

“Didn’t know you were stalking me.”

“Goodbye Hawks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew your faux sternness was hardly believable, as you caught him wink before you closed the door.

-

Two days later you bumped into Hawks and Best Jeanist in the hallway. You broke into a wide grin when you noticed the two heroes, pleasantly surprised to see just how much progress your patient had made in such a short time.  

“Good morning gentlemen.”

“Good morning Dr. y/l/n,” Best Jeanist said with a small bow. Hawks was visibly confused about his formality.

“Please, there’s no need for that. It’s just good to see you back in the land of the living.” Best Jeanist helped fill in the gaps for his perplexed cohort.

“Hawks, Dr. y/l/n was part of the team who developed the drugs to put me in a temporary death-like state to convince Dabi that you’d killed me. We can thank her for setting us up for success to get you undercover.” Hawks knew he missed out on a lot during his covert mission, but had no idea how many parties were involved outside the ordinary network of hero agencies and the Commission. You blushed at the praise.

“It was nothing, really. You guys are the ones doing all the hard work.”

“Truly, we are in your debt,” Best Jeanist piled on. You weren’t used to so much flattery and you had a job to do so you tried to end the conversation.

“Anyways, I have to get to my next patient. Jeanist, keep an eye on your partner. It’s good for him to walk around a little bit but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight.” He gave another bow.

“I’m right here,” Hawks typed, unamused by the turn of the exchange.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Hawks,” you yelled over your shoulder before disappearing down the next corridor.

The session later that day was nothing out of the ordinary. The nubs sprouting from his back had formed into tiny but well-defined wings and he was able to sit up during exams as opposed to lying face down on the hospital bed. All signs of positive progress.

He watched wistfully as you documented your observations, swaying his legs off the side of the bed like a child.

“They’re coming in quite nicely, I’m really happy with where you’re at.”

“Great what do I need to sign to get out of here?”

“Ahhh not so fast. You have to stay at least another two days and even once you’re discharged, you most certainly are not ready to return to active duty.” He pouted underneath his respirator mask.

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, just doing my job.” You proceeded to check his other vitals before heading out. First you took off his mask to check his lymph nodes, pressing your fingers firmly against the outer side of his jaw, moving down his neck. He was acutely aware of the lone thin layer of latex that separated you. He couldn’t stop the warmth that crept up his face, thankful that most of it was still covered. His flushed cheeks may have been under wraps, but he couldn’t hide his quickened pulse from you. You put on your stethoscope and instructed him to breathe deeply a few times, the cold metal circle moving from his upper back, to lower back, to his chest.  

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lungs are sounding better but your heart’s beating like crazy.”

He feigned surprise, which was much easier when he didn’t have to control his own voice. “Really? That’s odd, no one else’s said anything.”

You pulled up his chart again to check the inputs of all the other practitioners who’ve treated the hero since his arrival at Central Hospital. All values normal.

“On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you in at this point?”

“Two or three.”

“Are you feeling nervous about anything?” He chewed his lower lip trying to think of a way to get out of this, knowing that if he said no you would run more tests which would be unnecessary and prolong his stay.

“Yes,” he lied. Kind of. He actually was a little nervous, though definitely not for the reason you likely thought. You brought your chair next to his bed again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A loaded question.

“No.” The good thing about talking through his phone and the mask was that he could get away with saying less. Sympathetic people tended to not ask follow up questions.

“Okay. Well, you know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” You spoke slowly, your reassuring voice laced with uncertainty. It was difficult to get a read on him when you couldn’t hear the tone of his voice or see his face. “Do you have any questions?” He nodded.

“Will you go on a date with me?” You almost choked on your own saliva. You blushed, but forced yourself to remain stoic.

“I’m very flattered, but there are strict protocols against physician-patient relationships.” Your stern message was undercut by your stammering, high pitched squeak.

“What if I promise to never get hurt again?” You tried not to smile, knowing it would only egg him on. You were failing.

“You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“What if I find a different doc?”

“You’ve gotten awfully good at talking through your phone,” you muttered under your breath.

“Can’t hear you.” Despite his mostly covered face, you could tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of this interrogation.

“I-I’d have to take it up with the Board of Ethics.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Can I say one more thing?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to spew.

“I’d rather you didn’t but legally I think I have to say yes.” You watched as his thumbs frantically moved over the keyboard.

“Thank you for taking care of Best Jeanist. This operation wouldn’t’ve gotten so far without him or you.”

“Oh.” Your felt your heartbeat in your throat. “Again, just doing my job. Glad I could help.” You fiddled with some papers. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you have any other questions… about your health.”

Hawks shook his head, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Despite the fact that you wanted to scold him for the bizarre interaction, you were reassured by his pleasant disposition, one you hadn’t seen since he arrived.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Tomorrow rolled around but you entered an empty sterile room, bed ready for a new patient. After a few seconds your confusion passed and you saw red.

You stormed down the hall in search for any hospital staff, until a poor resident had the unfortunate luck of being in your path.

“Where the hell is my patient?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Room 3409. Yesterday my patient was there and today the room is empty. He wasn’t ready to be discharged so where is he?”

“I-I-I don’t know ma’am, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. y/l/n, this is a hospital, not wrestlemania if you could keep it down please. And stop traumatizing the junior residents.” Hawks’ pulmonologist emerged from his office and tried to placate you. You glowered at the first young doctor as he silently excused himself from the conversation that was definitely beyond his paygrade.  

“Please tell me he got moved to a different wing.”

“I’m afraid not.” He spoke again before you could let out another outburst. “I warned him of the risks of a premature discharge, to which he insisted he was feeling fine and that those were risks he was willing to take. I had him fill out some paper work and a consent form and he left this morning.” Your nostrils flared as you silently seethed.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t have to report you. Oh, and one more thing…” The doctor took a deep breath before proceeding, worried he may end up the subject of your wrath. “This is probably terrible timing, but – he requested to take you off his care team,” your eyes widened “…and should he be re-hospitalized that you not be involved.”

“WHAT?” You continued mumbling a string of profanities under your breath. The doctor continued slowly and calmly.

“He made it very clear it had nothing to do with the quality of care he received from you. But he uh, mentioned something about a potential conflict of interest.” He took a step back as you burned an imaginary hole through his head with your retinas. “I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not want to know any more information about this.”

“There is no more information about it because it doesn’t exist!” You wanted to scream. “Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck this hospital. I’msosorryItakethoselasttwoback.” You stomped your foot down like a petulant child before storming off. “FUCK!”

-

By the next day you had cooled off, that is, until you saw Hawks loitering outside Endeavor’s room as you were making your rounds.

“YOU!” you boomed. Hawks’ excitement to see you was quickly replaced with fear as you approached and you were close enough that he could see the rage steaming off you.

“Hey doc,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you ‘hey doc’ me.” You were very close to his face. He was sure he would’ve felt your breath if he didn’t have the stupid respirator mask on. For a split second he thought about taking it off but realized that would only further enrage you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He began typing but you swatted his hand before he could answer. “Ow.”

“And you –“ Best Jeanist would be the next recipient of your verbal lashings. “You said you would keep an eye on him. Liar.”

Hawks had never seen his colleague scared before, but there was a first for everything.

“He just wanted to come for a ride-along, I promise he stayed in the car the whole time!”

“I have never been more disappointed,” you said in a low voice. Best Jeanists bowed.

“I am very ashamed and deeply regret my actions. I am sorry.” That seemed to pacify you momentarily. You returned your wrath to Hawks.

“I told you you’re not ready to return to the field. And now I hear you’re refusing to receive treatment from me? I cannot explain to you how embarrassed and insulted I am.” You allowed him time to type this time as Best Jeanist stood there as witness, desperately wishing for the floor to open below and swallow him whole.

“You’re right. I’m not ready. But this enemy is moving too quickly, time is of the essence. I’m in good enough shape that I can help off the field. I’m sorry I went against your professional judgement.” You continued to glare at him with pursed lips.

“And?”

“And I was being proactive. I’m taking you on that date.” Your face flushed immediately while the avian hero somehow remained shameless. You did your best to maintain your composure.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You crossed your arms defensively.

“After a stunt like this, I wouldn’t be so sure. Plus, since you’ve already taken it upon yourself to be discharged I’m not sure why you’re even here.”

“Now that we know about the Todoroki family connection to Dabi, we need to gather intel. Also need to consolidate info from those at the Jaku Hospital attack. Off-field work, if you will.” Your eyes narrowed, only to be met with undeterred playful golden irises.

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But I feel the need to make it known that I’m not happy about it.” The injured hero smiled again.

“Thanks, doc.”

“Again, our sincerest apologies for the mishap.” Best Jeanist did his best to make up for his companion’s clear lack of repentance.

You only gave the heroes a parting glare as you walked away.  

The rest of the day passed, otherwise uneventful but long and exhausting. You kept a professional and pleasant face for the benefit of your patients, but it was getting hard to maintain after all you’d seen in the last seven days since the attacks. Yes, there were cases of miraculous recoveries in the face of overwhelming trauma. But far more frequent were lives that were forever altered by all that had transpired, not just for patients themselves but all the other souls connected to those individuals. The hospital was at capacity, and each bed represented not just one person but a web of lives that now had to face a new crippling reality. If you thought about it too much you could cry – which you did, in the nearest break room or supply closet if had even just two minutes between appointments. Thus, your favorite part of the day became doing paperwork in your office at the end of your shift. It was methodical and soothing, and allowed you to disassociate.

It was at that moment when you were enjoying your oasis that an intern rushed into your office, disturbing your peace.

“There’s an emergency on the top floor, you need to come quick.” You immediately got up and followed her down the hall and up the elevator, asking clarifying questions about the situation.

But when you entered the room in question, all you saw was a picnic blanket on the hospital bed, two champagne flutes, a bottle, and the number two hero. The intern shrank in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, he said he would send me a bunch of merch if I could get you here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” You rubbed your temples, hoping it would transport you to another dimension where you never went to medical school and thus would not be here. “You are not to accept a single thing from him, do you understand?” The intern nodded aggressively. “Now go, I’m sure you have better places to be, ideally with a patient who actually needs help.” The intern scurried away without another word.

“And you,” now turning to Hawks. “Bribing medical professionals? Super illegal.”

“Sorry.” His mischievous eyes said otherwise, clearly undeterred by your scolding. You scoffed.

“No you’re not.” He shrugged. You took a closer look at the set up. “Seems kinda wasteful, doesn’t it? You can’t even drink.”

He turned the bottle to show the label. Sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The corners of your lips tugged upwards, threatening to betray your steely exterior.

 Any semblance of a smile quickly vanished, however, when he removed his respirator mask.

“What are you –“ He spoke before you could protest or before he lost his nerves.

“I’m going to be gone for a really long time after today. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll be back.” He cautiously grabbed your hands. “Regardless of which it is, I really want to make sure I don’t break any promises.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when he paused. You suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact.

“This is a hospital, not the Make A Wish Foundation.” Despite your icy response, you made no effort to pull your hands away from him. He gently rolled his thumb over your knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge and crease.

Most of his face was still covered in bandages, but you liked that you could now see how his lips curved into a lopsided smirk, punctuated by laugh lines that formed around the corners of his mouth. You liked knowing that you were responsible for it. Your mind concocted imaginary circumstances of other things you could do to get him to make the same perfect expression.  Your eyes lifted to meet his when you were done daydreaming.

“I thought they were one in the same.” He was insufferable. His arms fell to his sides when you separated yourself from him. For a moment he almost looked like the defeated shell of himself that was in your care a week ago. But it was quickly washed with relief when he saw you grab the bottle.

“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.” A satisfying *pop* echoed in the room. He knew your words were hallow, as your acquiescence was rewarded with the hero’s bright eyes and heartfelt smile that made your heart beat in time with the little bubbles that evaporated around you. You handed him a glass of cider, his fingers ghosting over yours as he took the flute from you that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your patient anymore.”

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt11/?

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fluff, 18+, KINKS

The living room was alive with laughter as the cast huddled around the coffee table, snacks strewn everywhere, and a heated game of Pictionary underway. Jack was furiously scribbling on the notepad, his tongue sticking out in concentration, while Erin and Antony shouted wildly incorrect guesses.

“Is it...a car?” Erin yelled.

Jack groaned. “Does this look like a car?!”

“Maybe a horse?” Antony guessed, squinting at the mess of lines on the paper.

“It’s obviously a toaster,” Karl said with a straight face, making the rest of us dissolve into giggles.

Jensen sat beside me on the couch, his arm slung comfortably around my shoulders. He was terrible at hiding his amusement, his chest rumbling with soft laughter. I leaned into him, feeling that warm, easy comfort that only he could provide.

“You’re not even trying to help,” he teased, nudging me gently.

“Because this is too much fun to watch,” I replied, grinning up at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered with a smirk, pressing a kiss to my temple.

The moment felt perfect. The room was filled with the kind of joy that made everything else fade away—the drama, the stress, all of it.

But then my mind wandered, unbidden, to a conversation Jensen and I had just days ago.

-

“I’m done, Jensen,” I had said, pacing the length of our hotel room.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with a calm that only made my frustration grow. “Done with what?”

“My manager,” I snapped, spinning to face him. “I’m done with the constant criticism, the pressure, the...the bullshit.”

He stood and walked over to me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, my voice softening. “That’s why I’m firing him.”

Jensen’s lips quirked into a small, proud smile. “About damn time.”

“I just...” I hesitated, glancing down. “What if it backfires? What if—”

“No.” His voice was firm, cutting through my doubts. “You’re not doing anything wrong. If someone in your corner isn’t supporting you, they don’t deserve to be there. Period.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” he said, cupping my face in his hands. “You deserve better, and if firing that asshole is what it takes, then do it. I’ll be here no matter what.”

-

“Earth to Y/N!” Erin’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?” I blinked, realizing everyone was staring at me.

“It’s your turn!” she said, holding out the notepad and pen.

Jensen chuckled, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

I groaned but took the pen, determined to draw something only slightly better than Jack’s unrecognizable toaster—or horse, or whatever it was.

The night carried on in the same playful, lighthearted spirit, the memory of my decision to fire my manager leaving me with a quiet sense of empowerment. For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

The house was still and quiet as we stepped inside, the only sound the faint click of the door locking behind us. Jensen turned to look at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tossed his keys onto the counter, his movements unhurried but deliberate.

“Feels weird without the kids here, huh?” I said, kicking off my shoes and letting out a long sigh as I sank onto the couch.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice low and easy, “but I’m not complaining.”

He crossed the room toward me, his strides purposeful. His eyes had that familiar gleam, the one that always made my heart race. When he reached me, he crouched in front of the couch, his hands resting on my knees.

“You’re too far away,” he murmured, his voice tinged with mischief.

“I’m right here,” I replied, trying to keep my tone steady, but his touch had me unraveling already.

“Not close enough,” he countered, slipping his hands under mine and tugging me gently forward until I was perched on the edge of the couch, our faces just inches apart.

He kissed me then, slow and deep, one hand sliding to the back of my neck while the other rested on my thigh. There was nothing hurried about it—just the deliberate, intoxicating way he always made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I laughed softly, my hands curling into the front of his shirt. “You’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“I don’t say it enough,” he said, his tone turning serious as his fingers traced idle patterns on my leg. “You’re everything to me.”

The intensity in his words had my chest tightening, my throat threatening to close up with the weight of emotion.

“Jensen…” I started, but his name barely made it past my lips before his hands began to wander.

Jensen leaned back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, but his eyes were anything but casual. They were filled with a mix of desire and mischief as he watched you, his gaze lingering on your chest.

“You know,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “I’ve always had a thing for… well, let’s just say I appreciate a good pair.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “Is that so? What do you appreciate about them?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. “Everything. The way they look, the way they feel… and the way they drive me absolutely wild.”

You felt a rush of heat at his words, your heart racing. “Maybe I should give you a better view then,” you suggested, your voice playful yet inviting.

Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire as you slowly lifted your shirt, revealing your bare skin. His breath hitched, and you could see the hunger in his gaze as he took in the sight of you.

“Damn,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “You’re stunning.”

He shifted closer, his hands finding your waist, fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled you toward him. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“Can I?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your chest, a mix of eagerness and respect in his gaze.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart racing with anticipation.

With a swift motion, he leaned down, his mouth capturing one of your breasts. His tongue swirled around your nipple, and a moan escaped your lips as pleasure coursed through you. Jensen’s hands roamed, squeezing and kneading your other breast, his touch firm yet gentle.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment of pure bliss.

“Jensen,” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming. “I need more.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. “You got it, babe.”

With that, he shifted, positioning you so that you were lying back against the couch, your body arching toward him. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze filled with hunger. Then, he leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that you never wanted to extinguish.

As he kissed you, his hands continued to explore, tracing the curves of your body, his fingers brushing against your breasts, teasing and tantalizing. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him closer.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and desire. “I want you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your heart racing. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a wicked grin, he leaned back down, his mouth capturing your breast once more, his tongue flicking and teasing as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel the heat building between you, the world outside forgotten as you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you.

Jensen’s mouth moved with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. He lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling and teasing, while his hands explored the curves of your body. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, a desperate need building within you.

“Jensen,” you gasped, arching your back as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. “I need you… please.”

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk playing on his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re driving me insane.”

With that, he shifted his position, kneeling on the couch beside you. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in every curve. You felt exposed yet empowered under his scrutiny, the heat of his gaze igniting a fire within you.

“Let me show you just how much I appreciate you,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

He leaned down, his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed them apart. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as he settled between your legs, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your heart racing with anticipation.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, he leaned in, his mouth finding the sensitive skin between your thighs. A moan escaped your lips as his tongue flicked against you, teasing and exploring. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against you, his breath hot against your skin.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer as he continued to work his magic. He was relentless, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting as he expertly brought you closer and closer to the brink.

“Jensen, I’m so close,” you gasped, your body trembling with need.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “I want to feel you come for me,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

With renewed vigor, he focused on your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing in a way that sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body arching as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

As you came down from your high, Jensen crawled back up your body, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it only fueled the fire within you.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal his chiseled chest. You couldn’t help but admire him, your hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips.

He leaned down, capturing your lips once more, his hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension building as he pressed against you.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with need.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes, Jensen. I want you.”

With a primal growl, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. A moan escaped your lips as you felt him stretch you, the sensation overwhelming. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes locked onto yours.

“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, but the urgency quickly built as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel every inch of him, the heat and intensity building with each thrust.

“Jensen,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as he picked up the pace. “Harder… please.”

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more frantic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You could feel the heat pooling in your core once more, the pressure building as he drove you closer to the edge.

“Let go for me,” he urged, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to feel you come around me.”

With a final thrust, you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. Jensen followed closely behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his release, filling you completely.

As you both came down from your highs, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the afterglow wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“Damn,” he said, satisfied.

---------------------------------

A/N: Hey you guys, I'm back, I hope you guys had fun during the holidays, idk if I'm back to posting regularly but I can try.

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7 @spxideyver @stoneyggirl2 @star-yawnznn @quietgirll75 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[ladykailolu]

Headcanons for Marigold

Mia Fey was working on a scrapbook with pictures of Maya (it’s got her baby pictures and stuff). After she died, Maya took it and tries to keep it going, and when Godot gets out of jail, Maya let’s him have it.

Marigold carries her mother’s magatama everywhere, though she doesn’t always wear it

Godot teaches Marigold to speak Spanish

Marigold becomes a defense attorney when she grows up,

If she somehow met Sadie Mae and the gang, she would be good friends with them

Personality wise: child Marigold is a rather quiet kid, having a rather shy disposition. But when it counts she’ll go from 0-100

Fun facts about Adult Marigold

She has a fascination with poetry (when she’s particularly cocky she’s speak in haikus) [she has fixation on metaphors like her dad]

She’s graceful. Shes like an elegant princess, like princess Diana

Like princess Diana, she’s the people’s princess, as she is very caring and sweet and cares a lot for other people (like her mom she wants to believe in and defend people)

She can be a bit full of herself (she knows she’s a girlboss like her mama and she’s a bit cocky like her dad) She also knows she’s hot, and that she can get it and wears it on her sleeve a bit

Like a princess she’ll have a vibe of, oh all the commoners want me, but they can’t have me or be me. Fufufu

She knows she’s that bitch, but she’s not a bitch, you feel me?

She knows she’s just the most perfect young girl (her daddy told her so himself, plus I heard, mommy thought so too so 🥰)

I think it's possible that during visits to the prison, Godot would teach Marigold her next Spanish lesson lol. If the prison's fine with it, she could bring her Spanish textbooks and the like, or simply a notepad and paper and write down a few things. That's also sweet that Godot gets to look through the scrapbook and see Marigold's baby pictures and Mia's family. It's almost enough to make him feel that Mia was there with him. And he catches up on Marigold's history. She was a cute baby. Has her mother's smile. And Maya tells him all these stories of when Marigold was growing up back when Mia was still alive. And considering that Godot said that he had nothing else to live for when he lost Mia and everything else, well, now he has quite a big something to live for, doesn't he?

Why does Marigold aspire to become a defense attorney? Runs in the family? It'd also be cute if Auntie Maya gave Marigold a locket with a small picture of her mother inside, so Marigold can still know what her mom looked like. She has no idea about the father, however.

Awww, but considering that she's shy, it would be cute if she got all shy and clammed up when first learning Spanish from Godot. But learning from him has built up her confidence. And during these sessions, he introduces her to the beautiful world of metaphors, and when they're apart, they write letters back and forth with a little bit of poetry here and there, and that's when Marigold practices haikus.

Since she's gonna be a defense attorney, she needs a rival to put her into her place from time to time. Who is that rival prosecutor?

It sounds like she's really loved and she knows it, which is awesome given the circumstances behind her parents. Even when Godot was in jail, Marigold still had Pearl and Maya and Feenie. And when Godot is out of jail, she visits him regularly, checking up and catching up. She'd hate for him to feel lonely.

[fordanoia]

I didn’t go through ANY reblogs or my activity or my drafts but i did a sweep through to follow people

which might not seem a lot, but that task alone just took me 3 hours

[valeskawhore]

“Patients; 07 and 08.”

Written and edited by: @valeskawhore

Word(s): 3.k

Characters/parings: Jerome Valeska x Female! Psychiatrist reader! X Jeremiah Valeska

PART 1

Warning(s): profanity, brothers being creepy, mentions of murder, obsession, yandere tendencies.

Summary: Jeremiah and Jerome landed themselves in Arkham, together. A special grade psychiatrist gets assigned to both of them but either of them know about it at first. The brothers end up falling deeply in love (In obsession) with the psychiatrist reader. They feel a connection with her, alive almost. but what happens when they find out about each other? More importantly, when y/n suddenly gets transferred to a new facility somewhere on the mainland AWAY from Gotham?

———-

“So Jerome,” I leaned forward over my desk, rolling the pen between the pads of my finger tips.. “How did you feel when Jeremiah fed your mother all those lies?” I asked calmly.

His face contracted into a murderous glare. He shifted in his seat, arms bound by the straight jacket he was wearing. “Well, ya see doc,” He grumbled,

“I wanted to kill the little four-eyed bitch.”

My words choked in my throat and halted to a stop by the look on his face. So serious, the most serious I had ever seen Jerome.

I cleared my throat, taking a breath. “I see,” I nodded slightly, giving a small smile.

I picked up my notepad and began to update everything from our session. Jerome watched me with disappointed eyes. He sighed, “Is it that time already? ”

Jerome always seemed to hate whenever our sessions would come to an end, he enjoyed them so much. Finally getting time alone, and actually having a decent conversation with someone who hasn't eaten, stabbed, or killed someone else.

He felt normal, accepted.

“Yes Jerome. Unfortunately, our time has come to an end.” You frowned, flipping your notepad closed and setting it back on your desk. He was such a different person behind closed doors, they both were, It was such a shame that they grew up with the life-style they did.

“Of course it is.” He sighed, sitting up in his seat, “Everytime we get to the good part too.”

“Well if this subject is something you want to put a pin in, we can definitely pick it back up during tomorrow's session?” you offered, “Really?” He popped up, a hopeful glint swirled in his eyes.

“Yes, of course, Jerome,” I smiled, discreetly reaching down to hit the button under my desktop. “We will pick this back up tomorrow.”

Within seconds, correctional officers swarmed the area and carried Jerome out by his straight jacket. He didn’t fight them, instead he looked behind him and gave you a small wink, flashing a cut smile. He was very much looking forward to tomorrow.

Once Jerome was out of the room, I sighed, stamping my documents and pulling them into a stack. I picked myself up from my desk and exited the room, grabbing my keycard and ID on the way out.

My heels clicking against the cemented tiled floor echoed through the building as I walked. Finally coming close to reaching my destination at the front office, I took a sharp turn left, bumping into a fragile figure. They barely caught themselves from the contact, almost falling over as well. The Files slipped out of my hands. They burst open on the ground everywhere, papers flying, and documents torn.

I apologize over a thousand times, not even taking a look at the figure in front of me. I hadn’t realized who they were until I heard a familiar gasp and saw blurs of black and white of a prisoner's uniform bending down to help me as much as they could.“I-im so sorry- Miss y/n! I-i-i- didn't mean it! I promised.” Oswald sputtered, his hands frantically picking up as much paper as he possibly could. Not even caring what folder he shoved it into, he was trying to help anyways.

Once we had them all back safely in my grasp, Oswald apologized again. The officers who were apparently escorting him to the cafeteria, shoved him forwards, mumbling out curses. I frowned at this, but quickly covered up to give him one last wave before being forced forwards.

Yes. I understand these are criminal masterminds who probably deserved to be executed instead of thrown in Arkham, but for the ones who are actually making an effort to put behind all their differences, officers could at least be more considerate.

As a special class psychiatrist like myself, it is my job to help open up a person mentally and It is my job to help someone work through their trauma. Some people genuinely cannot help what they’ve become, for some folks, it’s really not their fault.

I can’t stand close-minded people, they have no place in this world.

I sighed, adjusting my glasses up the bridge of my nose and turning back on my heel.

I needed to get these papers signed so I could continue with my next patient.

—----

“Miss Y/n,” My radio buzzed, I shifted in my seat, reaching for the device and putting it close to my lips. “Speaking.” I answered. “Jeremiah is here to see you ma’am, he’s ready.”

“Yes, of course,” I smiled. “Send him in.”

Jeremiah smirked at me, entering the room with grace. He directed his way towards one of the love seats, his arms bound to the straight jacket just like his brothers were, I waved the guards off.

“Coffee?” I gestured to the steaming mug sitting next to his loveseat on the small glass table. I always left a mug there for him. He appreciated the caffeine since- well, he couldn't get any here. “Of course,” He smiled, “Would you be so kind as to..?” He gestured to his straight jacket.

“Yes.” I laughed light heartedly, reaching down to my secret drawer and pulling out a ring of keys I definitely was NOT supposed to have. I walked over to Jeremiah and searched for the keys to his jacket on the ring. Once I found it, I unlocked each individual bolt on his jacket.

He shrugged the jacket off with a huff of approval and reached for his coffee, taking a sip with a groan. “Jesus, this is exactly what I needed today.” I arched an eyebrow. He smiled, gesturing to the mug, “Caffeine, it's been a rough morning..”

“Do elaborate Miah, It’s what I'm here for after all.” I leaned back in my chair, my eyes trained on his.

He smiled.

<3333

Should I make a part two? Lemme know in the comments!!!

[blu-joons]

When He Carries An Item Specifically For You ~ 2PM Reaction

Jun.K:

You pressed your hands together, trying to generate some warmth in them as you fell back from Minjun as you walked. “Come on,” Minjun called out, turning back to you, “are your hands getting a bit chilly?”

Your head nodded as Minjun walked back so that he was alongside you once again. “As we’re getting closer to the sea, it’s really starting to take it’s toll,” you smiled, feeling the breeze.

“It’s a good job that I came prepared,” he cheered, reaching into the pockets of his big jacket, pulling out two pairs of gloves, one for you and one for him, “these should warm you up.”

You graciously took the gloves from Minjun, placing them on your hands straight away. “That’s so much better,” you smiled, running your hands together once again.

“I thought they’d come of use at some point,” Minjun chuckled as he placed his gloves on too, “there’s a definite chill in the air this evening too.”

Your smile remained as you looked to Minjun, “did you know I’d get cold? Is that why you put the gloves in your pockets?” You enquired to him.

“I hate to say it, but everywhere we go, you end up getting cold.”

“I really don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you laughed.

“You’re just cold, that’s all it is.”

Nichkhun:

Your eyes widened as Nichkhun spoke, finding the perfect combination of lyrics for you to use on the upcoming song that you were working on. “What is it?” Nichkhun asked, bemused as to what was going on.

You buried into your bag, only to spot nothing that was suitable. “I’ve got it, I just need to write it down,” you stumbled, fumbling around as you looked around for a napkin.

“Here,” Nichkhun spoke, reaching into his bag and pulling a small notepad out straight away with a pen clipped to the side of it, “this might be what you’re looking for, right?”

You didn’t even respond, hurrying to right down what was on your mind before looking across to him. “Thank you, I didn’t want to end up forgetting that.”

“For a lyricist, it blows my mind how you constantly manage to leave the house without a pen and paper,” Nichkhun teased back across to you.

Your head nodded in agreement, “luckily for me though I’ve got you here looking out for me to help me out when I find myself in a pickle.

“I’m glad I bought that notepad; it’s gotten plenty of use.”

“Most of that use from me though, right?” You joked.

“Definitely more you than me.”

Taecyeon:

Your hands were focused on keeping your hair back as you leant over the toilet, greeted once again by morning sickness. “I’ve got it,” Taecyeon told you as he joined you, scooping your hair up and into his hands.

After a few moments, you felt his hands move away, but your hair stayed up and out of your face as your sickness came to an end. “What did you do?” You asked, turning to face him.

“I tied it up,” Taecyeon simply informed you, watching the confusion on your face appear with a chuckle. “I’ve had a tie around my wrist all the time, haven’t you noticed?”

Your head shook, only leaving you even more confused. “I’m usually so observant, I swear baby rain is ruining me,” you huffed, unsure how you had missed such a thing.

“I know how much your hair has been annoying you through pregnancy so it’s good to always have one as a just in case,” Taecyeon explained to you.

The smile on your face widened as you felt your hair to see where the band had been fitted, “that’s such a sweet thing to do, and you never told me either.”

“I thought I’d wait and see how long it would be until you noticed.”

“I would have noticed if you gave me more time,” you told him.

“Don’t worry, baby brain, I know.”

Wooyoung:

Another groan came from you as you got your fingertips stuck in your hair as you tried to brush through the knots. “You’ll have no hair left if you carry on,” Wooyoung joked as he watched sat opposite you.

Your eyes looked across to him, tugging once again, “what choice do I have? That wind ruined my hair and I’ve got nothing else around that I can use to fix it too,” you told him.

“That’s where you might be wrong,” he responded, picking up his bag and burying through it, “us idols are told to prepare for any situation, and I for one always am.”

You kept your eyes on Wooyoung as he reached into his bag and pulled out a brush, offering it across to you. “You carry a hairbrush around; you don’t need one.”

“I don’t, but you do,” Wooyoung proudly smiled, “I knew that one day buying a brush for my bag would come in use, and I knew it would be you too.”

You smiled in relief as you began to brush through the knots in your hair a lot more comfortably, “I really appreciate you having this for me in there.”

“It’s no big deal, it hardly takes up any room in my bag at all anyway.”

“What else do you have in there to be prepared?” You enquired.

“Now that, is an idol’s secret.”

Junho:

Your heart raced as you looked out of the car to see the red carpet lined up with press, cameras everywhere, flashing constantly as people passed by. “Are you alright?” Junho asked, noticing you getting nervy.

Your head nodded as you looked across to where he sat beside you. “Do I look alright?” You enquired, wanting to make sure that you didn’t let him down walking beside him.

“I had a feeling you’d ask that,” he smiled, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a small mirror, “why don’t you take a look before we head outside?”

Your hands took the mirror straight away from Junho, opening it up to look inside. “When did you get this?” You asked, checking that everything was as you wanted.

“I grabbed it on the way out knowing that you’d be fretting,” Junho told you, studying you closely as you drew your finishing touches together.

Once you were done, you handed the mirror back to Junho, “can you carry that with you tonight? Just in case I start to worry about something again.”

“That was already my plan, and by the way, I think you look amazing.”

“Thank you, I knew that I could rely on you like always,” you mused.

“You can count on me always.”

Chansung:

A sigh came from you as you continued to scratch over the bit of skin on your lip that was sticking up where you had caught it. “Have a look in the side of the car door,” Chansung told you, catching you out of the corner of his eye.

Your eyes looked down, burying through some of his other bits before landing on a tin of lip balm. “Can I use it?” You enquired, reaching down to pick it up and take a closer look.

“It’s in there for you,” Chansung chuckled, briefly glancing across to look at you, “your lips dry out constantly, and when we drive, you always fascinate about it.”

You quickly unscrewed the lid and applied a layer to your lips, “I didn’t think you paid this much attention,” you teased, placing the tin back in the door.

“Unfortunately, after so many years as your friend, I’ve learnt a lot about you,” he joked, feeling your hand poke against his arm, “it’s no big deal really.”

Your head shook back across to Chansung, “you can be a nice friend after all,” you teased, making sure that you never forgot about what he’d done.

“If you’re going to tease me, I can take the lip balm back out again.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you enjoy caring for me too much,” you smiled.

“Annoyingly, I think you’re right.”

---

Masterlist

[aliceblossoms]

The stationary series

Part I

Grian and DocM77

Synopsis: a series which depicts my view of what type of stationary the hermits would use, and how their office would look! To avoid a massive post, this has become a series. Under the headcanons for each hermit I’ve included a list of the pens and inks i have written about to use for reference.

A/n: It may have been a while since I’ve posted anything, thanks to a writers block, but due to some help I’ve decided to create this series, so I hope evryone can enjoy this. This is different from my usual x-reader content. Special thanks to @blooming-mushroom​ for helping me think of this, and for helping me in the process. I am so glad you are my first mutual, and for the fact that we were able to chat before this got published, since this was supposed to be my initial reveal as Blossom-anon. 

Grian:

Carries around a small notepad where he scribbles new base ideas and additions, he wants but does not have the time or materials for to add immediately

The front of the notepad is filled with elaborately scheduled out to-do lists, completed with a progress bar and planning space

He never uses it however, preferring to scribble down on the corner of an already full page what his plans for the day are instead

His handwriting is definitely worse when he doesn't have a sturdy surface to put the notepad against, but generally has a pretty legible     handwriting (despite his chaotic nature)

His impulsive tendencies to show in the way his notebook is organized however, with lots of random pages filled with miscellaneous notes

Grian scribbles elegant patterns along page sides and corners that get incorporated into his build designs eventually, perhaps in a wall for variation, or as a carpet design

Prefers using ballpoint pens when travelling, and flying around, though it is definitely more than an average ballpoint pen

He carries around a Parker jotter ballpoint pen due to their comfort while writing and because there are no risks for ink leaking while he is grinding or flying around

At his base he has a semi organized desk, though discarded notes from the notepad are almost everywhere

He knows that what it may be he is searching for is hidden in the notes on his desk, but cannot find it whenever he needs to, and instead finds it a few days later when they have become useless

Definitely has building pictures and sketches hanging around his workplace for build inspiration, and planning

He does have an actual fountain pen around his desk for making more elaborate plans, which would be a vintage Parker 51 in burgundy

It is one of his favourites due to its hard working and nearly indestructible reputation, yet still struggles refilling it with ink which frequently ends up in ink splatters across random notes

Since he likes the colour red, he tends to gravitate towards those colours as well, though he also loves writing in a classic blue ink, or black even.

I would imagine he'd like ‘Oxblood’ by Diamine, ‘Royal Red’ by Robert     Oster, Parker quink blue, or Parker quink black

(from left to right: Parker Quink black ink, Parker quinck blue ink, Parker Jotter in red ballpoint pen, Parker 51 in Burgundy with gold cap fountain pen, Oxblood by diamine, Royal red by robert oster)

Docm77:

Doc plans things, and not in any small quantities 

He plans new projects, structures, ideas, and, above all, he often has to converse with the Hivemind for a lot of these things in the form of letters

Therefore, writing comfort has become necessary for him, and he likes to use pricier and more classic pens

For example, the Visconti Homo sapiens pen is standardly on his desk, and a Montblanc Meisterstück, depending on what ink is in the pen and what he feels like 

He would keep the pens on his desk standardly, not feeling the need to take them with him as any idea's that may pop up during the day gets stored in his brain until he has the time to write it down

He has multiple notebooks scattered around a big desk, with multiple advanced calculators and measuring instruments strewn about

He isn't necessarily neat, but definitely isn't as messy as some of the other hermits, so his desk only has few miscellaneous papers lying about, though most of his ideas or plans are stored in notebooks he has piled up in the corner

Because of the size of some of his plans, he also has a wall in his office dedicated to different ideas where he hangs the filled papers

One of the other walls in his office would be filled with bookcases, where he has multiple books displayed, a lot of them handwritten by himself, with game codes and past idea's that he likes to revisit occasionally

Notebooks of past seasons projects, builds, and ideas are also stored away neatly in bookshelf as well

Though his handwriting can be quite difficult to read due to his mind working faster than his hands can keep up with

It’s not necessarily a doctor-type of handwriting, it certainly borders the edge sometimes

Words are scratched out often as well on his notes, as he tends to write something in German instead of English when writing to the Hivemind

The hivemind has however become an expert in decoding his     handwriting

Doc would prefer more classic toned inks like blue or black, though especially in the blue's he likes to switch it up every so often

He would like Iroshizuku Kon-peki, Iroshizuku asa-gao, Aurora blue black or Cross Black

(from left to right: Iroshizuku Kon-Peki ink by pilot, Iroshizuku asa gao ink by pilot, Visconti homo sapiens fountain pen, montblanc Meisterstück fountain pen, Black ink by Cross, Blue black ink by Aurora)

[b-courageous1010]

Hi!! Do you have any recommendations for where to get stationary? I’m looking into notebooks specifically but I’ll take a look at anything.

You really have inspired me on leveling up and take a more aggressive approach into my studies. I wish you success in your future endeavors and thanks so much for sharing your journey.

Hi!!! Thank you so much for the kind words and I wish you the same 🤗

Right now my favorite stationary spots are:

Cloth and paper

It’s a good one stop shop. They sell everything from planners, sticky notes, notepads and things of that nature. I have 2 of their notebooks and I would highly recommend you check them out. The quality of the paper products especially notebooks are amazing, I highly recommend.

My favs in terms of notebooks

Small Spiral Graph Notebook - I use this as a brain dump it’s pretty small but the paper is durable and smooth and I carry it with me everywhere

Task sticky notes - my best friend put me on to these sticky notes. sometimes I’ll write an important list and stick it in my notebook and I have a page in my notebook just for storing sticky notes.

I also have an executive notebook that allows you to date each page which I use for meeting and lecture notes.

Amazon

SUNEE Graph Paper Notebook - B5

You know you can find just about anything on Amazon. This is a pretty inexpensive option where you don’t have to sacrifice quality for quantity.

The paper is durable and doesn’t bleed unless you’re EXTREMELY heavy handed. I use these for note taking and I love them they so spacious!

Moleskin

You can’t go wrong with a moleskin. They can get very pricey but the durability and the quality of paper keeps me hooked. Sometimes I’ll go with a LEUCHTTURM1917 if it’s cheaper than the moleskin. It’s virtually the same concept just a different brand. I usually use these options as bullet journals to keep up with tasks and homework assignments.

Target

Target is really building their stationary inventory. I’m always in target browsing the stationary aisle. Their stationary line day designer has great stationary options and they have all kinds of notebooks and planners.

I hope this helps 😊

[the-broken-truth]

Can I request a male s/o for cassandra? The guys is half bull but is really sweet and shy and he's the new farmer for dimitrescus?

Sincerely 💠anon

🙍‍♂️🐾

Broken: Wow! A request for Cassandra! I think this might be the first one I had. Let the words weave together!!!

Note: The Reader's name is referred to as [Taurus] - The Taurus Zodiac is in the image of a Bull; they are known to be powerful but rather kind.

[Castle Dimitrescu - Alcina's Study]

"Now, daughters - the reason I called all of you here today is the notify you that there is a new servant coming to the castle this afternoon but he is not like the normal servants." Alcina explained as she faced her mirror, applying a new layer of lipstick.

"He? We are hiring a man to work in the castle?" Bela asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, are we going to have some Man-Blood for dinner, Mother?" Daniela giggled like an excited kid on Christmas Eve - ready to tear into her presents.

"No, Daniela - this male is not to be touched in a hostile manner. He is one of a kind and he has expressed his eagerness to aid Castle Dimitrescu with fine vegetation." Alcina said to her youngest daughter.

"He's one of a kind? How so, Mother?" Cassandra asked, honestly curious as to why this man-thing is special.

"You shall find out when he arrives, Cassandra; you will know what I mean when you lay your eyes on him." Alcina said as she rose to her feet, and turned to face her daughters, "He should be here soon, let us go to the foyer." Alcina said as she headed to the door. The daughters looked at each other in confusion before they began following their mother - like ducklings would follow their mother.

On their way there, they happened upon a maid walking in the opposite direction, the maid noticed them and bowed to them before speaking.

"Good Afternoon, My Ladies. The Head Maid wanted me to notify you that Mr. {Taurus] has arrived and is walking for you all in the Foyer." The maid explained, her head still bowed.

"Thank you for the information - you are dismissed now." Alcina said as she waved her hand, causing the maid to walk away.

The Lady of the Castle and her Daughters entered the foyer and standing there by the doors was a man: He was tall and muscular - it was clear that he used his body a lot and built up power. He had tan skin and [Hair Length] [Hair Color] hair. His [Eye Color] eyes scanned around Castle Dimitrescu's interior before turning his eyes down to a notepad it was writing on.

'Was he talking notes?' Cassandra questioned herself.

The closer they got to him, they saw why their mother said he was different - he had two large horns on his head, a long tail that mimicked a bull's but matched his hair. Just what was this man-thing? Why did he have horns and a tail? Why did he look so...muscular? When he looked up and his eyes laid upon the ladies of the castle, he placed the notepad in his shirt pocket, stood straight, and bowed his head to the women before him.

"Best of the afternoon to you, My Ladies." The male said - his voice, while powerful, held respect and tenderness.

"[Taurus] - The Bull Man. When I heard that you accepted the invitation of a Castle Gardener/Farmer, I thought they were pulling my leg; I didn't even think you would come here." Alcina said as she looked down at the bowing Bull-Hybrid with a smirk, "Why are you here so early? The invitation said that you had a week to prepare, you are 3 days early." Alcina said.

"I was very excited for the chance to work under Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters. What's more - I have been rather bored working for my previous employer, he was not paying me enough and the amount of work he was giving me was unfair to the others; it was because of my...strange appearance." [Taurus] explained while still bowing to Alcina and her Daughter - Cassandra kept her eyes on him, hearing the heartbreak in his voice.

"Understandable. Since you are already here..." She looks at the tool beside him, "And it appears that you are prepared to work, I shall explain your job and tell you where you shall be staying." Alcina said.

"I am ready to work, My Lady - tell me my tasks and I shall get to work at once." He said finally looking up at Alcina.

"You are responsible for the upkeep of Castle Dimitrescu's Gardens and Vegetable Fields; the cold makes it hard to grow enough produce or the winter and the farmers in the village love overcharging the price of their products when the field refused to bear more." Alcina explained with a scowl on her face.

"Understandable. I can make Greenhouses for the more fragile of produce, I have a contact that can give me the materials. I shall start with clearing the fields of debris and salt." [Taurus] said as he reached down, gathering his tools.

"Alright, I shall have a maid..." She was cut off by her middle child.

"No, Mother; I'll take him to the fields." Cassandra said - her eyes still trained on the man.

"If that is what you say, Cassandra," Alcina smirked before walking out of the room with her other two daughters. [Taurus] watched the middle heir for a while before she told him to follow her and the two of them went to the fields. There were large tree stumps on the grounds, rocks that didn't belong, and lots of head vegetation. Cassandra showed him to a small gardener's house that needed some love. [Taurus] thanked the Middle Heiress and bowed his head to her as she watched back into the castle [It's warm so the cold won't bother Cassandra], but she watched him out the window.

Cassandra watched as the hybrid took off his shirt, revealing his well-sculpted body and gathered some chains in his hands, wrapped them around on the stumps, and began pulling it from the ground with the power of a bull in its prime; he did the same with all the stumps before pulling out the weeds and dead flowers before taking his ax to chop the stump pieces into slabs of wood.

The Daughter of Dimitrescu watched as he repair the small house with the wood but she heard him making plans to make the house stronger.

As time went on, the fields of Castle Dimitrescu were filled with flowers and vegetation - the maid loved the veggies, the soup and sauce made from them were perfect.

Alcina became fond of the male after he built a relaxation in the garden for her and her daughters to enjoy time in the warm sun.

Bela and Daniela were kind to him and even offered him to come hunting with them sometimes but Cassandra would not let him go with them - she knew what her sisters were like and she wasn't gonna let them take what belonged to her.

Around the time the garden was complete, the greenhouse was made, and it was clear that the castle looked better - Cassandra had claimed the Bull-Hybrid for herself and he had no problem with that. They would spend time in his small house, reading books or making hybrid plants. When she would be hungry, he would let her feed off him. They would spend time cuddling when they wanted to be in each other's arms. When they were in the castle, [Taurus] would carry Cassandra everywhere without question.

[End]

[punemy-spotted]

Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.

[venushasvixens]

Ch. 17 Observe. - Life is but a Dream ( Spike Spiegel x Reader)

[A/N] Welcome to the new year! This is the prologue that will set up the rest of the fic. I’m trying my best to keep up with the release schedule for my fics and posting on here overall as part as my resolutions for this year. I hope y’all are doing good and thanks for reading. Enjoy!

WARNING: mentions of mature content

It was dusk. You caught your breath as you rounded the block, feet coming to a slowed roll. If you made it back early enough from your errands for Lou, you were promised a slice of fresh cherry pie. Its sweet, tart flavor was all you could think about, you didn't even take note of the unusual clamor in front of Lou’s diner.

The door chimed as you slipped in the doorway, a sea of eyes focused on you. Scruffy, rough looking men sitting in booths spoke loudly and guffawed in conversations as you tried to steer clear of their attention, sneaking behind the counter to place your empty bag on a shelf.

“What’s all this?” You asked Lou as she poured a cup of coffee, her face scrunched in frustration.

“Another bounty in town. Supposed to be in this part of the area.” She replied, gathering a plate in the window. “I don’t mind the business, I mind the behavior.”

She pointed out into the dining room, watching as the bounty hunters cackle and yell out their need for a waitress. The other waitress could only handle so much, carrying plates out to the diners, and being pulled in all directions as she was demanded everywhere.

“This is roadhouse behavior.” Lou snarled, shoving her notepad into her apron. “I’m having none of it.”

“Neither am I, Lou, can you please help me out here?!” The waitress whined, dropping an empty plate into a plastic bin. “It's like these people have never eaten a day in their lives.”

“Or learned some manners.” Lou said under her breath. “I’ll be out there in just a second. Did you finish up your errands?”

You nodded. “Every single one.”

“Good job, sweetie. I’ll get that slice of pie for you after I finish-“

CRASH!

“Oh, good lord.” Lou muttered as she eyed the loud commotion of broken plates and roars and claps as the waitress tried to pick up the broken pieces in vain. “I’m going to need you to wait outside until I tell you to come back in, okay?”

“Why?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t want you to see this.” She said, flipping her apron off.

“I’ve heard worse, Lou.” You replied, holding out your hands.

“I know sweetie, but I can get real scary when I’m pissed off.” Lou’s eyes grew dark, urging you to step back a little. “Do you want that slice of pie or not?”

“See you in a minute.” You squeaked as you rushed out. Hearing the tail end of Lou’s rage, you quietly stepped outside.

The road was full of passing vehicles and people walking on the side of the street. You watched as they carried on with their lives, full of thoughts and needs. Individuals with different situations and problems pass by every day. You didn’t need a book to read well. The pages came flooding out, the characters pacing in front of you.

A woman held herself closely, watching her surroundings. It was still a safe part of town, but it was best to keep yourself safe.

A boy let his arms hang loosely at his sides, taking small steps. His walk was full of leisure. There was not a care in the world, and if someone wanted to pass him, go right ahead. He’s in no rush.

You leaned against a wall, letting the night ambiance to take over you. Closing your eyes, you took in the rest of your senses awakening. Hearing the honks and whirs of hover vehicles, various rushed conversations and shouts from all sides. The smell of petroleum filled your nostrils and a whiff of cherry pie was just calling for you to come back in. But you had to wait.

“Busier than what I thought it was going to be.”

Your vision shot open, a person in a long leather trench coat was standing next to you. Their hands were in their pockets, leaning against the same wall as you. The top of their head was covered by a wide-brimmed black hat, tilted to the side to where you couldn’t see their face on your side. A trail of smoke emitted from the other side of the hat, burning your nostrils.

“Umm, there's a bounty in town.” You said softly, watching as the person nodded.

“So I’ve heard.” They replied, taking the cig out of their mouth to blow. “In all my years, I haven’t seen a town take off quite like this one.”

You furrowed your brows. “I haven’t noticed anything. It seems the same to me.”

“You won’t see it until you look at the whole picture. All you need to do is back up a little and observe.”

“It's hard when you have no ticket to anywhere.” You mumbled, kicking some rubble by your feet.

“You don’t need a ticket for this.” They said, turning to you. You finally saw what was on the other side of the hat. A sense of wonder came over you as piercing emerald irises met yours, perfect ruby red lipstick adorning her mouth. She was breathtakingly gorgeous. And she looked so familiar…

She sauntered behind you, holding onto your shoulders. “Hey what are you doing-“

“I’m helping you.” She said, pointing out onto the street. “Tell me what you see.”

“A busy road.”

“Yes, there’s that. But look closer at the details.”

You wandered over the floating automobiles, the honks and horns sounding off. You looked into the drivers seats, at the controllers who were so dead set on getting to their destination on time. A man, walking in between the sea of traffic, crosses over to the side. His vision darted from side to side, keeping his head low.

“Him.” You finally said.

“Talk.”

“He doesn’t want anyone to see his face. Hands in pockets, could be holding something. And he’s trying not to make it obvious, but he's looking out for something. Or someone.”

You heard a hum of approval. “Very good. Now tell me about…her.” She pointed to a lady walking your way.

Her hair was up in a bun, a few baby hairs falling over her forehead. The outline of her business suit was pressed, a long unsuspecting coat was draped over her. Overlooking her shoulder and keys in hand, she was definitely on guard and ready for any action.

“This isn’t exactly a nice part of town. But it's cheap, especially for somewhere to live. She works in a nice place, and has nice clothes. It's part of the job. She knows that people look at her. Someone pretty is always being watched.” You said lowly. “Others would give anything for shoes like that.”

“That’s true.”

“It's best to just hurry home.” You uttered finally, finishing your observation.

“You said this neighborhood isn’t exactly a pleasant place.” She stood up straight, hand on her hip. “So why is a kid like you doing out here?”

Looking at her, you shrugged. “Haven’t had any problems just yet.”

“Any parents, kiddo?”

“No. Orphan.” You turned away, focusing in on the diner door. Must’ve been a long “talking to” from Lou.

“I understand. Doing pretty well for yourself?” She asked, flicking her lighter on and off.

Nodding, you placed your hands in your pockets. “I do errands for the owner and live at the orphanage.”

“Do they know you’re out here?” She looked down the street distantly. “Heard that place is hell on earth.”

“No they don't know, and yes it is.” You mumbled. “It's the only home I've known.”

The woman’s face softened, staring at the small child in front of her. “I had somewhat of a similar upbringing. It's hard now, but wait. It’ll get better in no time.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Taking a few steps forward, the woman gently grabbed your hands into hers, grasping them in her palms. Her smile was warm and kind, reassuring a hopeless dreamer of the good left in humanity. “Yes it will. I know it, kiddo.”

A second soul cares.

“Here, let me give you this.” She pulled away, grabbing a piece of paper in her pocket. Quickly she took a pen and scribbled down on the front. Folding it, she passed it to you. “In case you need a place to stay. Or to find more work.”

Taking it into your hand, you opened the paper to find an address and phone number. “Thank you.”

“If you need anything, give me a ring. It's my usual hangout, but I’m always off for the next catch.” She stated before lowering her hat and flipping her collar up.

“What do you mean next catch?” You questioned, disappointment filling you as you watched her walk away. “What do you do?”

“Just watch the TV, you might find me.” She smiled, giving you a friendly wink. “See you around, kiddo.”

You gave a small wave, the woman engulfed into the crowd of people that waited on the corner for the crosswalk sign to turn green. You looked back at the paper, reading the name of the hangout.

Colt Corral.

Password:

Doc sent me.

-

“(Y/N).”

“Hmm?” You replied lazily as you sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, coming out of an old memory.

“I was askin’ about the necklace.” Jet said. “Sure is pretty.”

You smirked, touching the pearl. “I don’t think so.”

Jet chuckled, getting up for a refill. “Pearls are hard to come by, missy.”

“Oh really?” You heard Spike say as he came in, sitting next to you. “Well I can just take it back.”

You giggled. “I love it, I promise.”

“You better.” Spike smiled, taking a sip out of your mug. “I’m starving, what are we making for breakfast?”

You caught the sight of your happy gaze in the reflection of your coffee. Cheeks sore from smiling so much, hair a mess. It wasn’t visible, but your face was still covered in kisses from the night’s previous “celebrations”. A show of gratitude for such wonderful gifts. Your spirit was on a high and you weren't ready to come down.

A thought crossed your mind, allowing your brain to imagine a way of living that was so sinister compared to the paradise you dwelled in now. What if…

What if you never escaped from Yun?

Better yet…

What if you never escaped from her?

[hanseoxsimp]

Gummy Bears - Jang Hanseok x Hanseo

One-shot, requested by @swaggy-tea and @taewithalottlesuga, an au where someone isn’t a psycho

A/N: bolded words are words Hanseok says in English; hope you enjoy reading!

Hanseo doesn’t really enjoy video games. Or board games. Or any sort of game really.

He views it as unnecessary stress, tasks and missions that weren’t worth the small amount of satisfaction one receives in the end. On the other hand however, is Jang Hanseok. That young man- looks will deceive- is purely childish at heart.

Hanseok carries a pack of Haribos everywhere he goes, has Candy Crush downloaded on his phone and a penguin plushie resting in the corner of his office. His personality is so loud, so vibrant, so... annoying.

When Jang Hanseok was announced the new Chairman of Babel, Hanseo did not hesitate one millisecond to pass the position over to him.

If Hanseo didn’t enjoy video games, he most definitely did not enjoy being like a pawn amongst the wealthy elites of the country. Constantly feeling like an NPC to his own body, he might as well kiss Hanseok out of gratitude for taking the position away from him. Although, that man ended up placing Hanseo as Vice Chairman.

Not the best, considering how Hanseo just wanted to fly away and live a life full of secrecy in Malta, but Jang Hanseo will endure it. Like how he always has.

One month ago, a Korean-American man walked up to him and said they were half brothers. Two weeks ago, his new half brother moved in with him, inspecting every crook and cranny his mansion had offered. One week ago, his “hyung” had assimilated the Chairman seat and now was working in the same chair Hanseo had once resided.

If one should say, “ work at Babel is tiring,” that would be a clear understatement in Hanseo’s eyes. Working at Babel meant restless nights, empty coffee cups piling on the floor, dark circles beneath eyes, bleary vision after each all-nighter and so much more.

So Hanseo did not understand why his new hyung had seemed to be in perfect shape.

Jang Hanseok appeared to look healthy, like he got 10 hours of sleep each night and never had reeked of coffee. Maybe it was an American thing, Hanseo pondered, the ability to look completely fine.

He rested his head against his knuckles, his elbow propping his whole arm up against the sleek dark oak desk. The world felt heavy. The air, his own head and eyelids.

Just as he slipped into an abyss of sleep-

Tap! T- Tap! Tap! T- Tap! Tap!

Sharp, rhythmic taps awoke him with a start. His whole body jolted up, and his drowsiness washed away as if someone had dumped ice cold water on him.

“ My dongsaeng!” The single English word prefixing the sentence was a dead giveaway to letting Hanseo know who it was.

“ Han- Hanseok hyung.” He greeted politely, standing up to give a respectful bow.

The Chairman shook his head, “ Hey, we’re brothers. No need for all that.” He comfortably slung an arm around Hanseo’s shoulder and the younger wondered if all Americans acted like this.

Hanseok then nonchalantly sat on top of his desk, disregarding the fact he was also sitting on a small pile of papers.

He popped a gummy bear into his mouth. “ Are you tired? Your skin doesn’t have that... glow that it normally does.”

Hanseo had no clue what English word was uttered but he nodded. “ Just a lot of paperwork nowadays.” Why was he so nervous? It was like a gut feeling that made him feel afraid of Hanseok. It was odd. He barely knew his brother.

“ Do you want a break?” Hanseok followed up with a very intriguing offer.

§

Hanseo doesn’t like video games. Or any sort of games. But if he had to choose between playing games or sorting out piles of worksheets, he’d rather pick the first option.

“ Try this!” Hanseok excitedly called him over to a shooting game, the place was adorned with plushies that would be given as prizes.

The arcade his hyung had taken him to was packed, and Hanseo never relished in crowds or public spaces like these.

Hesitant as always, Hanseo gripped the plastic gun and leveled himself to the sight, moving it to align with the water ballon target. A finger on the neon green trigger, he pressed down and the fake bullet missed the balloon by the slightest inch.

“ Oh, that was close!” Hanseok pipped up, walking over to get his turn. His competitive nature seemed to bloom as he added on, “ You should’ve aimed properly.”

Hanseo scoffed, giving his brother space to take his turn.

Hanseok’s face softened as he suddenly asked, “ Which one do you want?”

His younger brother blinked in slow motion. What? “ What?” He voiced his confusion out loud.

“ I said, which one do you want?” He repeated, gesturing to the plushies that were hanging on the ceiling and walls.

He didn’t know why, but he ended up blushing. No one had ever done these kinds of things for him. Hanseo sharply turned away from his hyung, embarrassed at the red that colored his cheeks.

Hanseok suppressed a chuckle, “ Come on~” He whined in English, “ Hurry up and pick!”

“ Uh...” Hanseo faced the prizes and scanned each one of them. All of them looked boring, too vivid and childish-

“ The puppy one.” He mumbled, his eyes set on the golden retriever plushie that was beside a very colorful stuffed unicorn.

His older half brother smiled mischievously. “ Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Can you say that again?” Causing Hanseo to roll his eyes at the very obvious motive.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the floor. “ The puppy one at the top left.” He repeated clearly, and Hanseok hummed satisfied.

The Chairman raised the toy gun to his eyes, squinting as he aimed. Pulling the trigger, he had hit the first target flawlessly.

“ Woah!” Hanseo said in awe, well aware his brother hadn’t gone to the military yet so this skill was purely cultivated by himself.

Hanseok grinned victoriously, winking at the younger man. “ I’m gonna get it for you.” He clarified, pointing at the puppy plushie.

“ Hyung, you don’t need to-“

“ Oh, but I want to.” He cut the protest off, picking up the toy gun again to hit the second target.

Pop!

The second water balloon was down, meaning there was only one left. “ One more...” Hanseok muttered under his breath, placing his finger on the trigger.

Pop!

“ YES!” He cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

Hanseo cracked a genuine smile, seeing his hyung act like that.

Maybe he wasn’t so annoying after all.

§

“ I did well, didn’t I?” Hanseo piped up. A couple of hours had passed by in the arcade and the two had completely warmed up to each other’s company.

“ Mhm.” Hanseok replied, slinging an arm around his shoulder, gazing down at how adorably Hanseo was clutching the plushie. “ You deserve to be my brother.” He jokingly added on and the other simply scoffed.

“ By the way, you haven’t told me where we’re going yet.” His younger brother said, lips showing the tiniest amount of pouting.

“ We’re almost there,” Hanseok replied, “ See?” He pointed to the store before them, “ An ice cream shop!” He pulled away to make dramatic jazz hands.

Hanseo grinned a cute gummy smile that the older was slowly getting used to. “ Gosh, hyung, you-“

Hanseok immediately placed a single finger on his lips, hushing him. “ Zip it, we’re eating to our hearts content today.” Boldly, Hanseok reached out to his half brother’s unoccupied hand and intertwined their fingers. “ Let’s go!”

“ AH!” Hanseo yelped from the sudden pull, tightening his grip on the stuffed animal.

The glass doors opened with a chime, and the first thing Jang Hanseo noticed was the emptiness of the place.

“ Hyung...” He began, the realization sinking in, “ Did you-“

“ Reserve this?” Hanseok finished off the question, “ Yeah, I did.” He beamed proudly, “ I kinda forgot at first that you didn’t like crowded areas. Sorry.”

Did Hanseo’s heart skip a beat? He wasn’t sure. But he did know that he felt loved. Appreciated. He felt warm inside, like something bubbling at the pit of his stomach. “ Thank you..” He said, unable to find more suitable words.

“ Nah, don’t thank me.” Hanseok waved it off, “ Come on, let’s take a seat.” He changed the topic with ease, dragging the other along to a circular turquoise table.

One of the staff walked out and headed towards them. After basic greetings, they pulled out a notepad. “ What would you both like?”

Is this a fancy restaurant or something? Why is there a waitress-

“ Hanseo-ah, what do you want?” His brother’s question snapped him out of his thoughts.

“ Uh... I’ll have the double chocolate chip ice cream.” He scrambled to pick one quickly, his social anxiety not wanting to drag the conversation on further.

“ And you, sir?” The waitress turned to Hanseok.

“ Classic vanilla. With gummy bear toppings.” He answered curtly, and the lady quickly wrote it down before scurrying away.

A minute or so passed when the Jang brothers were handed their orders. Hanseo’s mouth watered at the sight of the extra chocolate drizzle that was placed on top of it all for free.

Hanseok smiled, “ I guess you like chocolate a lot?”

Hanseo nodded eagerly as he grabbed his spoon to dig in. After wiping some ice cream off his chin with the back of his hand, he decided to reply. “ And I guess you like gummy bears a lot?”

Hanseok chuckled, “ I love them.” His smile dropped a bit though, but the sparkles in his eyes remained. “ Hey, you got a little stuck beside your lips.” He pointed at Hanseo’s face, and the younger man immediately picked up a napkin and began cleaning the wrong side.

“ No- no,” Hanseok sighed,” Come on, let me do it.” He stood up and reached over the table, taking his thumb and gently wiping the ice cream off Hanseo’s face.

Hanseo immediately tensed under such soft touch, not really knowing why he was expecting something harsh.

“ O- oh, thanks.” He stuttered, focusing on the ice cream before him.

“ Mhm.” Hanseok continued to munch on his gummy bears, before scooping one out with his spoon. “ Wanna try?”

“ No, it’s okay you can have it.” He declined, this brother of his was already giving him way too much affection than what he was used to.

“ Say ‘ahh,’” Hanseok prompted, holding the spoon in front of his dongsaeng’s mouth as if he were a baby.

Hanseo blushed- out of being flustered or embarrassed- he’ll never know. He looked up into the Chairman’s eyes and regretted it right away.

The twenty something year old man was making puppy eyes. It sort of reminded him of the plushie he got today, big and cute. Sighing, Hanseo reluctantly opened his mouth.

“ There you go.” Hanseok grinned, and watched as the younger chewed on the gummy bear.

Hanseo didn’t have the heart to tell him that he actually despised gummy bears with all his being. But then again, Hanseo didn’t really like Hanseok or games at first. Now his point of view had changed.

Maybe he could grow to love gummy bears too.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 1: “Who keeps hanging all this damn mistletoe everywhere?”- Poe Dameron

A/N: It’s here! It’s here! The 12 days of Christmas writing challenge has begun! Everyday up until Christmas day I will post a new story! All the prompts have been requested! Thank you so much for reblogging, commenting, and liking! 

This was requested by @poedameronloverx​ I hope you enjoy it! 

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F! Reader 

Warning: 18 + for language 

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie 

My Masterlist 

12 Days of Christmas Writing Challenge Masterlist 

During the middle of a war is not the most ideal time to celebrate the holidays. War doesn’t stop just because you hang some lights. The resistance was a depressing place to be at the moment. Small incursions resulting in heavy losses, the lack of new intelligence, and the overhanging threat of the First Order dampened the season. 

Although some never gave up it was becoming harder and harder not to be pulled under the cloud of hopelessness. Poe Dameron was not one of these people. Poe never gave up hope even when things had become desperate. BB-8 faithfully rolling by his side, the two of them went around spreading cheer around the base. They started with the decorations. Large garlands made from the forest leaves outside strung together with white lights and bright orange bows tied together from old flight suits. How they managed to hang them that high you had no idea, and frankly didn’t want too. Then came the music, classic songs from eons past filtered through the comms during missions, in the mess hall, and even the cantina. The atmosphere began to shift around base as the colorful decorations and music began to lift their spirits. 

The third step of their plan began the week before Life Day. A strange green plant with white berries began appearing. In doorways around the base the plant appeared. 

“What the hell is all this stuff?” you said aloud to yourself. 

“Mistletoe,” Jess snaps you from your thoughts and you turn to her questioning. 

“What the hell is mistletoe?” 

“Mistletoe is the common name for obligate hemiparasitic plants in the order Santalales. They are attached to their host tree or shrub by a structure called the haustorium, through which they extract water and nutrients from the host plant, very toxic. Although in the custom of Life Day they are used as a decoration under which lovers are expected to kiss. A most strange custom,” you and Jess both turn slowly to see 3PO standing behind you pointing his gleaming arm toward the plant. 

“So you're telling me someone put a toxic plant all over the base so that people would be forced to kiss each other?” 

“Precisely,” 3PO says cheerfully. 

“Right,” you nod sarcastically, “perfect.” 

“I think it’s kind of romantic. Who are you hoping to kiss?” Jess sighs. 

“No one,” you scoff. 

“Not even....Poe?” she wiggles her eyebrows and nudges you with her elbow playfully. 

“No way, the poster boy for the resistance doesn’t even know I exist...I think the existence of the other person is probably the first step of getting someone to kiss you.” 

“Don’t you hang out with BB-8 all the time?” she teases. 

“Yes, BB-8 assists me with my work on the ships but I’ve never really spoken to Dameron before. Sure, a word here or there but he doesn’t really notice me I’m just a mechanic. Plus I am waiting for a special person to kiss me on Life Day this year,” you start walking toward the mess hall, Jess following alongside. 

“You mean your secret admirer?” she coos giggling. 

“As a matter of fact, yes. They promised that during the week before Life Day they would leave me some more hints around base and then reveal themselves on the big day. But I haven’t received anything in two weeks...with all those casualties last week...I think my secret admirer might be gone.” The darkness hanging overhead seeps into your bones and you rub your eyes in exhaustion. 

“I wouldn’t be too quick to write them off. Maybe they are just waiting for the right time...like right now.” She points to your usual table in the mess hall overflowing with bright white and orange daisies. 

You walk in a trance toward the table and see your name scrawled on the cover of an envelope. You tear it open and devour the words, holding the letter tight to your chest you sigh. They’re alright, you thank the maker and ask Jess for help carrying the daisies to your work station. Trying to ignore the murmuring crowd around the table. It takes three trips but finally your workstation is overflowing in the colorful flowers, their sweet scent permeating the air. You inhale and smile still clutching the note. Jess walks over smiling patting your shoulder and giving you a one armed hug before going off to work. You look down and let your eyes flow over the note again. 

Hello Gorgeous, 

I’ve missed you so much these past few weeks. With the recent losses we have faced I have been busier than usual. These past few months of exchanging letters with you have been some of the happiest in my life. I can’t wait to finally meet you and reveal myself to you on Life Day. I hope these flowers bring a smile to your face as bright as mine was picking them for you. 

All yours, 

Your secret admirer 

You look around again at the sheer number of flowers covering every space of your workplace, and laugh imagining them picking each one special. Tucking the note safely into the pocket of your jumpsuit you get started working on the x-wings. By the end of the day you are starving from skipping lunch and exhausted. You take a sniff and wince at the sharp smell of engine oil and grease soaked into your skin. 

In the mess hall it’s late not many people are still up but they are luckily still serving food. Although it’s debatable what the resistance is serving can be called such. You poke hesitantly at the food and pull your notepad from your bag penning a response back to your secret admirer. 

Hi,  I’ve been so worried that you may have been one of those casualties that my heart melted when I saw my name on the envelope. You have spoiled me with the sheer number of flowers, and they smell so sweet. I have missed your letters and can’t wait for Life Day when we can finally meet.  All yours,  Your secret admirer 

You tear the paper off and fold it up before finishing the meal. You yawn as you take the long way home and pass your spot. You pull at the loose brick in the wall and place the letter inside before going back to your room for the night. 

The next morning, the sun streams through the small window of your room. Your roommate is already gone for the morning so you take your time in the fresher and pull on a fresh jumpsuit before grabbing a nutrition bar and leaving. When you get to your workshop BB-8 is waiting. The droid quickly became your friend when you first arrived several months ago as a transfer. He was great company on the larger projects around base. 

“Are you here to help me out?” you greet the droid dropping to a knee. He beeps happily back to you and you grin back at him. 

“So this is where my droid spends his day?” The voice behind you startles you and you rise quickly tripping over a canister on the ground. You feel the ground quickly come up to meet your back when you're flipped and land solidly on the chest of Poe Dameron.

“Are you okay?” he runs his hands over your head. You look into his deep brown eyes nodding. “Damn, I...I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Your brain just suddenly realizes that you’re still laying on top of him and scramble to get up, brushing yourself off and clearing your throat, “Oh uhm, thank you for catching me Commander.” 

“Poe,” he instantly corrects, and you say his name causing a smile to break out across his cheeks, “As I was saying, I wanted to meet the mechanic that has my droid making heart eyes,” he teases making you blush. 

“Oh...BB-8 is a wonderful droid. I am lucky enough to have him help me out,” you avoid eye contact, attempting not to make a complete fool out of yourself. 

“He speaks very highly of you, and I can see why,” he grins. You're sure at this point you must be the color of a tomato when he takes another step toward you taking your hand gently, and bringing it up to his lips. “I hope to see you again, very soon.” He places a gentle kiss on your knuckles and smiles before leaving. 

When he is gone you sigh and look down at the droid who quickly opens a compartment and lights the flame into the form of a thumbs up causing you to giggle. “Not the smoothest interaction I’ve ever had buddy but thanks for the support.” 

The rest of the week is a flurry of activity around the base as everyone tries to complete their work ahead of schedule for the Life Day celebration. The days are long in your workshop but luckily a steady stream of notes between you and your secret admirer make the days seem to go by quicker. 

Until the day finally arrives. The base while still maintaining itself is mostly run by droids today as people make their way over to the mess hall for the festivities. You check yourself over in the mirror again, smoothing out any wrinkles in your green dress, and placing the white snowflake hair-clip in place. Satisfied with your appearance you head off to your spot to check for any notes. Pulling the stone away and giving a slight squeal at the paper stuck inside. 

Today’s the day we finally meet. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and tell you how I feel about you. Meet me under the mistletoe.  All yours,  Your secret admirer 

You tuck the note into the pocket of your dress and race off to the mess, linking arms with Jessika as you pass her in the hallway and all but dragging her to the room. Your breath catches as you arrive. The room illuminates with twinkle lights in white, red, and green. Large candles are flickering in the center of the tables, and the room smells heavenly of tip yip and roasted vegetables. But one thing stands out amongst it all and your heart sinks. 

“Who keeps hanging all this damn mistletoe everywhere?!” Jessika asks, walking toward the buffet line. 

Everywhere you look sprigs of mistletoe hang. From the ceiling, the doorway, and everywhere in between. How the hell were you going to find your secret admirer now!? Jess shouts over to join her and you reluctantly do. The Life day celebration is a blast. People playing games, exchanging gifts, and the liquor flowing freely. You could almost forget for a minute we were in a war. 

The night slowly starts to wind down and you feel even more heartbroken as you start to pack up your small gifts from friends when BB-8 crashes into your side. Beeping hysterically. 

“What buddy, slow down! Poe...Poe WHAT?!” you shout and several heads turn to look at you as you follow the droid who is racing from the room. You run as fast as you can to keep up and when you turn into the hangar your steps falter. Standing under the open bay doors in a colorful sweater with BB-8 sewn on it is Poe Dameron smiling broadly. 

“What...what’s going on?” you stammer, “BB-8 said you were hurt, that you needed help…” 

“I wanted to get you alone,” he reaches for your hand and pulls you closer until you're standing directly in front of him. 

“Poe...what?” he sticks one finger up and points, your head tilting up to look above you and seeing the mistletoe hanging from the open bay doors. Your blood pounds in your ears and your lips turn up into a small smile and your voice gets very quiet, “It’s you.” 

“It’s me...are...are you disappointed?” he’s surprisingly shy and you shake your head no quickly stepping closer. 

“No...not at all...I...I wanted it to be you,” you whisper and his smile is almost blinding. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t,” you match his smile and he leans forward capturing your lips with his own. He’s warm and soft and tastes like peppermint and chocolate and you sigh opening your mouth to his. You’re so caught up in the moment that the shrill beeps of BB-8 capture you both by surprise, and Poe holds you close in his arms as you both smile down at the droid. 

BB-8 beeps at you happily and Poe nods laughing before kissing you again, “Yeah buddy, happy Life day to you too.” 

[alyss01]

|[It's a family business]|

[Comfy cartel x F!reader]

Part 2

---------------------------------------------------------

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Genre: Mafia AU / action

Word count: 2.0K

Requested: no

To request: it's possible to request a one shot for the comfy cartel AU, requests are open!

Synopsis: Corpse joins the cartel, soon you accompany him with Rae, Lily, Sykunno and Toast to a new opening casino to deal with an unpaid debt.

Warning: talk about murder, violence, alcohol consumption, blood, crimes

A/n: I'm so happy with the positive feedback this this AU has received! A lot of people are very excited about it is amazing to see. Thank you everyone that's supporting this series! Taglist is at the bottom. To be added to the taglist just send me a message!

Masterlist

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You sat in the back of the limousine Scarra had rented for the occasion. Beside you sat Rae in a similarly expensive dress as the one you wore. It complimented her long hair that faded into a lighter shade at the bottom well.

On your other side sat Lily, who wasn't much of a fan of long fancy dresses and so had opted for a black skirt with white blouse instead.

Across from you sat Toast, Corpse and Sykunno, each dressed for the occasion as well in a black suit.

It may have looked like the three were just there to accompany each of you, the reality was different, these five people all acted as your security for tonight as you sought out the target.

As the car came closer and closer to the party, you heard static come in on your ear piece, a sign that Micheal had turned on the connection.

He wasn't directly accompanying you, instead opting to stand nearby and guide you through the building if everything was to go south. He was stationed in a van near the venue that was large enough to fit all of you with ease as you fled the scene.

Instead of his signature mask, Corpse had gone for a simple black facemask to hide the biggest portion of his face.

"Garbage, bad, bad, garbage." Lily chuckled as she heard Micheal's string of curses over her earpiece, you had to stiffle a small laugh as well. Toast however, like Lily, didn't hide the smile that formed on his face. His sunglasses still on his head like always.

"What's up Micheal?" You could hear the smile in his voice as Toast spoke.

A small laugh echoed over the earpiece, "it's been awhile, Toast."

A fond smile formed on Sykunno's face as his eyes lit up, "it's great to work with you again Micheal!" He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.

Micheal positioned his laptop on his lap as he started to type away, the soft clicking noises heard over the comms, "it indeed has been awhile, Sykunno."

You chuckled as you remarked, "as long as your planning on not tasing half the cartel, it'll be pleasant to work with you once more."

"I promise nothing." A small smile formed on your face as you listened along, Micheal truly didn't change no matter the time between speaking with him.

It didn't take much longer for you to arrive, the driver getting out to open the door first, and first the three males stepped out. They subtly, yet carefully looked around without making it obvious as the turned back to the car.

Lily was first to step out, grabbing Sykunno's offered hand as she did. Next Rae stepped out, smoothing out her dress as she too accepted Toast's offered hand who had taken Sykunno's place.

On your turn you held Corpse's hand as he offered it to you as you stepped out, the driver closing the door of the vehicle behind you.

Lily and Rae had moved to the side, allowing you some space as you looked at the red carpet leading up to the entrance of the grand building. It looked extravagant, as expected from a new casino opening.

Both Lily and Rea grabbed the arms their companions offered to them, you followed suit. Your group knew how to play the part as you approached the hall.

It was lit up, yet in the large room is still have a dim effect as music played, people were spread around talking to each other, drinking at the bar or busy with one of the games spread around the room. A grand staircase led up to a second floor, destined as VIP area.

You felt a small tug as Corpse by your side had too realized that that was where you needed to go.

A small smile played on your lips as you nodded to your female companions. The three of you led your male companions to the bar that exchanged money for tokens.

A card was in your hand as you leant on the counter, the male in charge looking you up and down as you send him a dazzling smile. He stopped as soon as he saw the glare he received from Corpse at the action and when he saw your arm linked around his.

"I'll take 3k." You send him another small smile as you slid your card through the machine, "gotta start off easy y'know." He nodded as he grew red in the face. He handed you the tokens through the little hole on the bottom of the window as Rae moved up.

Both females got their own coins as you turned to Sykunno, "keep a look out for Lily will you, betting is only part of our goal." You spoke softly as the male gave you a gentle smile and reassured you he'd watch out for her.

After that you split up, Lily pulling Sykunno to the table that displayed black jack. Rae moved with Toast to the poker area, conversing softly with each other.

The slit in your dress allowed for a convenient holster with a handgun strapped to the outside and a dagger on the inside. It was just high enough to not be seen through the slit, but low enough for easy access if things went bad.

"It was almost too easy to come in." Corpse spoke softly as a fake laugh left your lips to hide the true nature of your converdation, you guided him over to the table with a roulette machine on top of it.

"You're correct." You spoke, grabbing a glass with champagne from a plate carried by one of the workers that passed. You took a small sip as you sat down, joining the game.

Roulette was supposed to be a luck game, although you knew better than that. It wasn't your first time at one of these tables.

After having made quite a profit you stood up, bidding the baffled people at the table that had been part of the rounds goodbye.

One of them had particularly lost a lot in the small time you spent at the table, standing up angrily to follow you and demand how you had won the game before being silenced by Corpse's murderous aura.

You offered him a small smile as you thanked him, mingling with the people that stood around.

Corpse had once more offered his arm, as you wrapped your own arm around his. You had to admit, despite your first cartel task with the man, this entire night he had presented himself as quite the gentleman. Even at the cartel he hadn't seemed like a bad guy, despite the nature of his job.

Managing to lock your eyes with Sykunno, and after that Toast, they alerted their companions to stop their games. As you dropped off your glass on one of the plates in a employees hand, you ordered a cocktail at the bar before Rae and Toast arrived, and not much later Sykunno and Lily had arrived as well.

You had no intention of drinking the cocktail in your hand, but it seemed more logical to want to rest in the VIP area with a drink.

Toast picked up a champagne glass like you had done before, catching what you were doing with the glass in your free hand as you approached the stairs.

"I haven't seen the target on any of the available cameras. He's either in the V.I.P. area, his office, or the vault, everywhere else are cameras." Micheal's voice invaded your ear through the earpiece.

Humming in response, you allowed Micheal to know you had heard and understood him.

"Hello gents, mind if we head in?" Rae asked, a small smile in her voice as she looked up at the two guards. They looked at your faces, checking a notepad in one of their hands as they opened the red sash that kept the stairs off limits to the other public.

You climbed the stairs, Corpse once more offering his arm to hold on to as he held your cocktail, you gratefully used your now free hand to hold your dress out of the way of your feet. His arm gave you the support you needed in the heels you wore.

As you reached the top of the stairs you were sure the security at the bottom of the stairs couldn't hear you anymore you whispered under your breath to Corpse, "that was definitely too easy." Referencing the words he had spoken to you earlier that night.

"Micheal, you have view on us?" Lily whispered as Rae engaged in small talk with Sykunno to mask the silent conversation beside them to anyone else. Corpse handed you back the drink as you accepted it, swirling the colourful liquid around the glass.

"Of course, I have all the views." He returned, as you heard the continuous typing of his laptop.

"Except when we enter." A small smile played on Rae's lips as she lead your group to the closed door. Toast walked in first as he scanned the empty room, it was still relatively early into the night so it made sense for no one to be there yet.

The rest of you entered, Toast and Sykunno checking for any devices that could listen along with your conversations. Lily positioned a small camera in a corner and Rae helped her hide it accordingly.

"I have all the views." You could hear the smile in his voice as Micheal spoke up. You chuckled softly as Lily twisted the camera slightly as she pulled her hands away, Micheal's reaction instant, "Bad. Bad, loser girl. Bad. Gremlin. Bad."

You laughed at Lily's dejected face as she fixed the camera's angle, and was given small praise by Micheal.

"Weren't you supposed to be his Capo?" You asked, the smile from before on your lips as Toast and Sykunno gave you the thumbs up that it was safe.

"No one rules over me!" Rae laughed along at Micheal's words with you as Sykunno too, started chuckling along.

You sat down on the couch, "not gonna lie, Reeves, I prefer you in that van. That shit show from last time still traumatizes me." Toast raised a curious eyebrow as Sykunno sat down beside you. Corpse opted for a chair instead and Rae fell down on the other side of the couch as she freed her feet from her heels.

"We were a good distraction though." Toast spoke up as you scoffed, "that I can't deny."

"Micheal and Toast are a fun duo." Sykunno pouted as you smiled at him, ruffling his hair, "they're clowns." The words left Rae's mouth as a smirk formed on your face.

"they aren't clowns, they're the whole damn circus."

The group chuckled as you followed Rae's example and pulled off your heels as you wiggled your toes as they left their tight confinements.

"Gonna get a close up of those sweet feet, the screenshots will sell nicely on ebay." You swiftly pulled your legs under your dress and on the couch, "what the fuck, no! Go back to your job you gremlin."

Once more the group laughed as you hit Sykunno playfully in his arm, pouting teasingly as he continued chuckling.

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Tag list: @another-fantasy-world @and-claudia @lo-manburg @stickystrawberrysyrup

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[princessofprocrastination]

A Creep? (Sapnap)

MASTERLIST 

pairing : sapnap x reader 

summary : in the world of flashing cameras and big stages, love lives don’t exist, and there’s no such thing as personal space. 

a/n : a sapnap story for y’all, muah. also, thank you so so much for 175 followers, holy crap.

-

your backstory is quite simple. a texan girl who had a dream of singing, but was limited since the main genre of your state was country. 

you appreciated the genre, but you have never been interested in making country music, the song choices never fit your voice. you didn’t even think you had a texan accent, at least that was what people told you. 

your parents have always been super supportive of what you do, constantly posting your covers on youtube, hoping that people out there enjoy to listen to you as much as they did. 

your dad had been the one to encourage you to do busking. he says it’ll be a great opportunity for you to learn what it’s like to sing in front of people, and a chance for you to get rid of your stage fright. 

so you did that. you started busking when you were about fourteen and stopped when you turned sixteen.

no, you didn’t stop because you were quitting, or that you were tired of it. instead, you were really lucky, and got recognised pretty early on your busking days. 

your dad decided that it was best to move to the US, where it’s closer to the record company that you were tied to. hence, that was what you all did. 

well, that was what you and your dad did. your mum decided to stay in houston to take care of your younger sibling. she felt that it was best they all stayed. 

that didn’t mean you guys were distancing from each other. instead, it felt like you were closer, calling everyday, making sure she knew what you and your dad were up to, and making sure that they were okay back in texas. 

you would consider yourself extremely lucky, for getting to experience what it’s like to be in the industry from young, for being able to produce music really quickly, for being able to attract people so quickly, those who liked your music. 

in your prime age of eighteen, you decided it was best to move back and forth from texas and california, from where you live. since things are going smoothly and you weren’t really needed in the US all the time, you thought it was best to move to texas again for the time being. 

you could say your music career was going pretty well. you found a loyal fanbase who enjoyed listening to your music as much as you enjoyed producing them. you were glad to have listened to your dad from such an early age. 

you were happy doing what you’re doing. but you were losing things to write about. 

being young, you didn’t have experiences in anything. sure, you excelled in school well and continued to attend online courses but you never really had friends, you never had a love life. 

a lot of people would say you’re too young, that it shouldn’t irk you this much, not being in a relationship but you thought the opposite. 

granted, you are happy with the close relationship you and your family have but you wanted to know what it would be like to be loved by someone else, to feel what it’s like to be held. 

you craved it. you’ve heard all about it, the pain, or the happiness it comes with. but you wanted to experience it for yourself.

so your dad and you move back to houston to your old house, not letting go of the house in california since you knew you’d come back once in a while. 

something that you hated telling people was what you did for a living. most traditional families would think that music can never bring food to the table, but times have change and music have changed a lot of people’s lives. 

another thing you hated explaining was why people took photos of you everywhere. with certain popularity, in comes curiousity. people want to know what you’re up to. 

and as weird as that sounds, you needed to get used to it. even though it was obvious that paparazzi’s jobs are basically an invasion of privacy. 

although you thought you could never be important enough for someone to document every step you take, paparazzi’s thought differently. but you understood it to a certain extent. it was their job, after all. 

as much as your job is important, so is theirs. 

sometimes it does get annoying though. you could be just in a grocery store, shopping for ingredients alone and there would be a swarm of paparazzi’s waiting outside to catch you and ask some questions. 

and everyday, a different question arrives. 

you never held back in telling them what they wanted answers to, you never had to hide anything. so what was the point of hiding. they never asked anything of importance, anyway. 

although the number of paparazzi’s lessened as you moved back to houston, the numbers weren’t small enough for you not to get overwhelmed. 

it really shocked you the extent they would go to write something vaguely interesting in an article. you didn’t even know how they knew you were moving back, but you never questioned it. 

as long as they don’t invade your privacy at home, all is good. 

about a couple months ago, you decide that your house was getting too boring and cramped with the cries of your little sister to really write anything good for your new album, so you found yourself sitting in a starbucks about less than an hour away from your house. 

you thought it was best to find somewhere further away from where you lived just in case someone spots you. you hoped for the opposite, though. 

you found yourself sitting in a secluded spot at the side, next to a window, facing the parking spots. you knew you’d stay for a while, so you tried to find a spot where people wouldn’t really see you. 

of course, with the way starbucks is set up, everyone can see everyone and but you can’t complain. the place had good drinks and pastry, and had pretty good wifi in case you needed to use your laptop at some point. 

you texted your manager from time to time, earphones in both your ears, listening to the newest sza single. this was the best time to finally catch up on some new music you missed out on. 

often times than not, you’d be typing away in your computer, stopping to grab your iced drink in your right hand to sip it, putting it down after a couple seconds. 

but you hated not knowing your surroundings, it has been what your mum taught you since young, to never be vulnerable, especially in public. with that lesson etched in your brain, you’d look up and around the cafe to see the changed of people once in a while. 

about an hour or two after you seated, you noticed a man walking in, wearing a simple, t-shirt and jeans outfit, carrying a backpack seating on the spot opposite you, but more on your left. 

he sat facing you so you quickly knew what he looked like the moment he sat down. 

for some reason, he caught you eye. 

he was fairly tall, taller than you at least, but wasn’t above six foot, not that it mattered. his hair was long, noticeably not been cut for a while, and had a short stubble, which suited his face so well. 

upon others, he seemed like the normal looking texan, white male. but to you, he was attractive. everything with him seemed to fit so well. he looked about your age, though you’re terrible at telling ages. 

you looked older than eighteen sometimes, yourself. you blamed it on the identity crisis you once had in california when you turned seventeen. 

you watched him silently as he stood up to the counter to order something. you snapped out of your thoughts, thinking if you got caught, he’d surely call you a creep. 

it had been pretty quiet actually. a couple came up to you when you walked in, asking for a photo but that was it. 

it seemed like it was going to be a relaxed writing day for you. 

your eyes glanced once more to the texan male as he settled down, typing away on his laptop. perhaps he’s writing an essay for school. maybe he’s still in college. 

but who were you judging, you, who was seated typing away probably looked like a college student, too. well, you are, just that you didn’t attend physical school. not that you were doing school work at that point, anyways. 

that day had been reserved for writing. and it seemed like you’d be coming to this starbucks more often.

no, it’s not to check on that man, obviously. 

even i can sense the sarcasm in my own tone. what the hell is wrong with me? i see one attractive male around me and i don’t know how to act? that’s so unlike me. 

you sat at the same spot for another three hours, eventually getting another drink when your first one ran out. you felt relaxed, thinking about your life, about what you wanted your new song to sound like. 

you and your producer texted back and forth, sending each other files of different guitar and piano notes you both liked to be into your song. 

you were so focused that you hadn’t looked up for a while. so you did that, you glanced up to check your surroundings, to see what had changed from the past couple hours.

looks like that guy is still there. it’s been so long. must’ve been a long essay. 

your eyes looked back on your laptop, clicking on a short snippet of a music file to listen to on your earphones that haven’t left your ears for about four hours. 

you listened to the file, eyes glued to your notepad in your laptop, trying to decipher if the beat went along with your lyrics. you picked up your cold drink with your right hand, putting it up to your lips as your eyes never moved from your laptop. 

while you gulped a couple sips, you decide to look out the window.

your heart skipped a couple beats as you surprised yourself, seeing a row of people with cameras flashing and recording you in your seat. 

damn, has it been that long since i looked up from my laptop? 

you slowly put down your iced drink, pulling your long sleeved sweater to cover your hands, covering your face for a couple seconds to calm yourself down before you looked up again. 

you were pretty acquaintanced with some of them outside, so they offered you a big smile, some of them laughing at the shock on your face when you spotted them. 

you were embarrassed, to say the least. people here weren’t used to you and didn’t know who you were, aside from the few who asked for your autograph from earlier. you didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. 

with your covered hands, you waved at them but told them to go home, mouthing the words to them, hoping they caught on with what you were trying to tell them. 

you made a ‘shoo’ motion with your hands, signaling them to leave, that you didn’t want the company today.

since they all couldn’t hear you anyways, they soon left one by one, thinking they got enough footage of you for the day, to save their films for another day. 

you knew that you couldn’t go to that starbucks as often as you wanted anymore, you didn’t want the same paparazzi’s to swarm the whole cafe.

so you didn’t end up coming back to the same starbucks location for a while. specifically, for about three weeks. 

for the time being, you went to several small cafe’s, where no one knew you, aside from strangers who called themselves your supporters who spotted you drinking your coffee. 

you were sad when you had to leave the starbucks that day. you knew that if he were to indeed come the next day, the same time, you wouldn’t be able to see him for a long time. 

you weren’t even sure if you’ll see him again after that. houston is huge, after all. 

when you walked into the same starbucks from three weeks ago, the barista greeted you, practically shouting your name out, telling you how much he misses you, since you came only once before this. 

you went to him first, ordered a drink and spoke to him for a couple minutes before telling him that you needed to start writing things before you lose your motivation. 

you sat in a different seat this time, a little scared of sitting next to the window. 

you found yourself sitting in a further in spot, furthest away from the door and windows, unlike last time. hopefully this time, no one can spot you from outside. 

but you were sure that the paparazzi’s were tired of waiting on your never arrival there that they’ve probably given up. 

there was a reason you came again, though. and you’re sure you made it obvious. you just wanted to see him again. 

-

SAPNAP POV 

there was not a day i don’t stop by that starbucks. but that was the first time i had ever seen you in there. you seemed to like your own space, away from people. 

it sure did look like you were so focused in getting your essay done. you barely looked up from your laptop.

i just couldn’t look away from where you seated. you just looked so beautiful, but so mysterious. being since i’ve never seen you before. but for some reason, i felt like i’ve seen you somewhere. i just didn’t know where. 

but it shocked me even more when i saw the sea of people waiting outside, pointing huge cameras on you. 

when i first spotted a couple people standing outside, i assumed that some celebrity was going to walk in soon, or that they were already sitting, just in some sort of disguise, or that i didn’t know who they were. 

i didn’t really care, and continued typing in my laptop, wanting to quickly finish work before i could relax and finish drinking my cup of coffee sitting right in front of me. 

but then i started noticing that they kept on getting closer to the window that you were seated next to. so i stopped what i was doing, and curiously looked, as some of the customers in there stared as well. 

i did see someone coming up to you, talking, but i assumed that you knew them. maybe they were your family and they came to say hi before needing to urgently go. 

but i can see that i was wrong. 

every single camera was pointed your way. there was like ten people standing outside of the cafe, some cameras flashing, others recording you. 

you hadn’t noticed yet at that point, still very much focused in whatever you were doing on your laptop. 

you finally picked up your drink, eyes finally leaving your work to look around you. you almost choked on your drink, seeing the cameras. 

you put your drink down, pulling your sleeves to cover your hands and covered your face with them, clearly caught off guard and embarrassed. 

you smiled at them, waving a little before politely telling them to leave, that you had to finish doing something, as you pointed to your laptop to them. 

you seemed to know them. you didn’t really look uncomfortable, but more of cautious of what people in the cafe would think of the commotion. 

soon, they left anyways, seeing as there was nothing they could really document from you sitting inside, and they couldn’t really ask any questions. 

about an hour later, you left, the barista greeting you, saying that he hoped to see you again soon.

now i’m more intrigued. who could you be? 

how did so many people know you? 

soon after her, i got into my car and drove home, exhausted from doing school work all day. the coffee helped for a couple hours and now clearly wearing off. 

george and dream texted me, telling me to join their discord call, saying that george was streaming and they wanted to talk about some weird shit. 

well, there goes my extra sleep for the day. 

soon, he ended his stream and the three of us were left talking about how our days went. 

“dude, mine was so confusing.” i stated last, after hearing what dream had to say about patches shitting everywhere on his carpet due to diarrhoea. 

“what do you mean?” dream asked me. 

“there was this girl, she came in before me into the same starbucks i go really often, right?” i stopped to make sure they were listening. they hummed to let me know they were.

“ten paparazzi’s swarmed the starbucks. they just pointed their cameras at her while she sat on a table at the side.” i said. 

“she was so shocked to see them at first, but she quickly told them to leave. she looked not comfortable with the stares after that she had to leave like an hour later. i don’t even know if she finished her work.” i finished. 

“wait really? what did she look like?” george asked. 

“my age, hair pretty long. she looked shorter than me and she was wearing flared jeans with a graphic tee.” i described her the best that i could.

“wait. you said starbucks in houston, right?” dream cut in. 

“yeah, why?” i asked, hoping for some answers. 

“i just saw the photos. i know her. she’s a singer, moved back to texas from california recently.” dream told me. 

“she’s like extremely known dude, how did you not know?” george said after dream told me who she was.

“i don’t know artists besides 21 savage, i’m sorry.” they laughed.

dream sent in her instagram in discord for me to see. 

i searched her name on instagram and scrolled through her photos and highlights, switching to youtube to listen to her music after that. 

i quickly clicked follow, wanting to be updated whenever she posted. i didn’t care if we met in real life anymore, i’m just intrigued at this point.

but it’s not like she’ll see my username following her. she has people following her everyday, she must not check it, right?

you had over a hunder million followers on instagram. i’m just shocked i hadn’t heard of her. maybe that’s where she was familiar.

i came back to the same place the following da, the week after. i came everyday and couldn’t find you anywhere. 

well, not that i could blame you, you were swarmed the first time you came, anyways. 

i saw the paparazzi’s waiting every single day, hoping to get a glimpse of you to ask questions but soon gave up and ended up not returning after a week seeing as you stopped coming. 

but you didn’t stop coming. you ended up coming three weeks after your first time. 

the barista practically jumped on the spot and screamed your name, i was sure everyone in the cafe knew you came in after that. 

you didn’t check the entirety of your surroundings so i was sure didn’t know who was seating where. i wasn’t even sure if you knew me, or remembered me from last time. did you even notice me?

this time, instead of sitting next to the window, she sat on the table to my right, we were both facing the direction of the barista. you sat where you could rest on the wall like i did, so we were basically in the same position, just next to each other. 

you settled into your seat, putting your drink down, turning on your laptop and got ready a little notebook that you had from inside your bag. 

while you sipped on your drink, you looked around to finally see what was around you. my eyes and yours locked at the same time, being i didn’t look away from my stare from when you came in. 

you smiled at me, acknowledging me. i gave her a smile back before turning back to my laptop to make myself busy. 

you had your hair different today. last time, it was down, and showed your natural looking hair but this time you had it pulled up into a ponytail. i guess you meant business today. 

i don’t know if that means you didn’t want people talking to you, or. 

oh, you put on your earphones. i guess you didn’t want to be disturbed, then. 

i kept staring at every part of you. okay, that sounded wrong and makes me sound like a pervert. 

you looked perfect. every single ring you wore on your fingers fit perfectly. your hair pulled back gave me the chance to see your side profile. your outfit casual, straight jeans with a sweatshirt on. 

god, you are beautiful. 

-

you felt his stares. he stared for a good couple minutes before he went back to his laptop to finish whatever he came here for. 

so he did remember me from last time. or he just noticed me today. or did he know who i was? 

“god i hope he’s not one of those creeps.” you thought. finally i find a guy attractive and he’s a creep? i hope not.

at some point in the couple of hours you’ve seated there, you had to take out your earphones to focus even more on writing something, instead of getting distracted with listening to something. 

you really wanted to come out with a new album in a couple months, and to do that, you needed to write something. urgently. 

you sipped your drink from time to time. you even had to facetime your producer for a while to ask on his take for the path you’re going with your new songs. 

he was really supportive and heard what you wanted and didn’t dump all his opinion and tried to call it a day. that was what you liked about him. he seemed to always take your thoughts into consideration.

playing with the rings on your finger, you looked up to look around to think of a word that seems to be at the back of your head, just you couldn’t seem to put your finger on it. 

there was no paparazzi’s today, thankfully. you were able to just keep your thoughts at bay and not have to be worried about the swarm of people waiting for you to answer their questions. 

you glanced at the man seated next to you just for him to notice your stare and look up from his work and matched your gaze. 

you hadn’t expected him to notice so you gave him a small, shy smile. to which he gave you back one. 

“do you mind if i, uh. sit with you?” he asked, pointing at the seat next to you. 

your heart jumped. holy crap this was happening. 

“i don’t mind, here.” you moved to your left to give him space to slide in next to you. he took that seat, moving his stuff from his table to yours, now laptops next to each other, your elbows touching. 

-

you two laughed at a dumb joke he said. 

to you, his name was nick but had apparently been sapnap to his online friends and fans. 

you were amazed at what he did as a hobby. sure, your job was a close second, but not close enough. you found it fascinating and promised him that you would check his channel out someday. 

that, to which he told you that he was embarrassed now and regretted telling you about what he does in his spare time. but you told him that he had nothing to worry about and that nothing could creep you out. 

you two spent a while talking to each other, even getting each other’s numbers at some point and promised to come here more often to meet other and do work together more often. 

“i actually had noticed you from the first time you came. it’s hard not to when there was a sea of people outside for you a couple hours later.” he told you. you covered your face with your hands, embarrassed that his first impression of you was that crazy. 

“i noticed you from the moment you walked in a few weeks ago too, i was a little sad when i had to leave.” you told him. 

“but please, no more speaking about the swarm of men waiting outside to talk to me. i am still as embarrassed to this day.” you started another sentence. 

“it was shocking, but i think i needed the experience, you know?” he laughed. 

you two sat there, next to each other until the sun sets, till the there was no sign of the sun at all, till the moon was high in the sky. 

you two didn’t realise how long you’ve sat there until his parents called him, asking where he was. and when your dad texted you. 

you two promised each other to come again the next day to meet and do work. actually do work this time, not just talk. although you both knew that you two would end up talking instead. 

with the promise to text you when he reaches home, he left the place and got in his car to drive home. 

that was nice. well, now you had something to write. 

with a smile etched on your face, you stayed in the cafe for about another two hours writing about the happiness you felt in your heart until you decide to leave. 

oh and yeah, he definitely texted you when he reached home. and fulfilled his promise to meet you again the next day, and the next, and more after that. 

you never ran out of ideas of things to write after that. it seemed that you had finally found someone who you could share new experiences with. 

and even after years of dating, he still teases you about writing multiple songs about him even before you started dating. 

god, he’s adorable. 

well, you could say that he wasn’t a creep after all.

[amethyst-asd]

Special Interests With ASD/ADHD

This is in response to someone asking me if I have a special interest, and what it’s like for me to experience that.

Yes! I definitely have experienced a special interest!! Mine was actually really hard to pin down at first because I didn’t really think I had a special interest—but looking back on how I was as a kid I can see it more clearly now lol

I would say I have a few special interests that I cycle through; I think my adhd gets bored sometimes so idk I guess I have multiple interests? I would count it all as the same tho tbh cause if you break it down, they are all pretty similar and have stuff in common.

Anyway, I would say English and writing definitely was my special interest as a child. At 6 I started writing stories and I have been doing it ever since. I remember being in elementary school and I would just research all day about writing style and how to improve writing—literally anything I could get my hands on. I was constantly picking apart literary pieces, movies and stores and finding symbolism, identifying writing styles all throughout my adolescence.

When I moved more into junior high/high school I started role playing with my friends. We would all sit together in a room and pass a notepad around, writing a story with our characters. It is actually one of my really fond memories.

I also remember having a small notebook that I carried with me *everywhere* that I went. In the back I kept track of all of the cool phrases I heard or read (specifically cool ways to describe things), and in the front I kept a list of words that I liked—either phonetically or I enjoyed the specificity of the word. I have always been really exact with the way I talk because of that. When I’m talking about something that is really important to me, if I can’t think of the exact word, I’ll wait to finish my thought until I do. (Tbh that can get frustrating at times lol.)

Anyway, I was always researching new subject matter thought my life and it started with English, but it grew into literally anything? I would get lost in whatever topic was interesting to me at the time, usually to do research for my characters. That’s why I say a lot of my interests are “special interest adjacent” because a lot if the time I’m researching something that I’m later going to write about.

I still do this a lot now, I really appreciate learning new things and perspectives. I think it all works together, the writing, learning, and listening. I loved learning psychology too and this really tied in for me cause it helped me understand my character’s motives and actions.

I guess to summarize, writing really sparked a lot of interest in research, and now I am at a place where it just makes me happy to learn. I also really enjoy collecting anything that has to do with frogs, and doing crafts is a interest cause it allows me to research different things and learn new techniques. People are usually really surprised when they learn how many different crafts I do. (Which, lol adhd makes it hard to stick to one thing too so I am sure that is part of the reason)

Thanks if you read through all of that. I really enjoy sharing what my experience has been like and questions are welcome as long as they are friendly (: